LOW    SOCIETY 


By  the  same  Author 

THE    BORDERLAND 

There  is  no  one  writing  more  truthfully 
of  low  London  life  than  Mr.  Halifax.* 
There  is  the  right  stuff  in  his  work.* 
"Borderland  "  is  a  powerful  story  with 
some  very  striking  passages,  and  it  has 
a  healthy,  manly  tone.  It  should  be 
read  by  everybody  interested  in  social 
work.8  It  is  a  bit  of  life,  transcribed  by 
a  master  hand  ;*  and  it  has  the  merit  of 
bringing  the  reader  face  to  face  with  the 
real  problems  which  the  modern  social 
reformer  has  to  solve  if  he  can.^ 

1  Manchester  Guardian.    3  Punch.    3  Clarion. 
*  Glasgotv  Ne-ii/s.     5  Scotsman. 


LOW    SOCIETY 


BY 

ROBERT     HALIFAX 

Author  of  "  T:he  Borderland^" 
"  T:he  Drums  of  Fate;'  etc. 


NEW     YORK 

E.  P.   BUTTON   &  CO 
t9iz 


TO   MY   WIFE 


271819 


LOW    SOCIETY 


CHAPTER   I 

"  Oh,  fond  love !  "  (pinka-pinka-pong). 

"  Oh,  fair  dove  1 "  (ting-a-ling-ling). 

"  Oh,  love  with  the  white,  white  breast !  "  (pong  !). 

"  Let  me  alone,  the  dream  is  me  own.  .  .  ." 

**  It's  a  banjo,"  said  the  small  boy  on  the  pave- 
ment outside.  This  critic's  trousers  were  held  in 
position  by  a  piece  of  string,  and  he  v^^as  mostly 
concerned,  while  standing  deceptively  upright,  in 
manoeuvring  a  puddle  so  that  it  overlapped  the 
feet  of  other  listeners. 

"  Bet  you  a  sovereign.  Bet  you  five  !  "  said  his 
sister,  crushingly.  Like  himself,  and  hundreds  of 
other  children  in  Barking  Town,  she  had  no  per- 
sonal experience  of  shoes  or  stockings  ;  but  set 
against  this  was  the  intellectual  compensation  pro- 
vided by  a  very  fine  Free  Library  round  the  corner. 
"  Think  I  dunno  ?  It's  a  jew's-harp  and  a  woman 
on  a  grammerphone." 

It  was  neither,  as  Mr.  Shadd  rather  acidly 
explained  to  the  knot  of  people  in  the  shop.  Being 
purchasers,  these  were  entitled  to  criticize;  and 
they   did   so    freely    and    feelingly.      It    was    his 

L.s.  B 


2  LOW     SOCIETY 

daughter  singing,  accompanied  by  a  brand-new 
American  musical  invention  which  kept  time  and 
tune  to  anything  in  reason — and  which,  as  he 
observed,  was  not  everybody's  acquisition.  He 
could  not  afford  to  boast,  but,  as  a  matter  of  simple 
fact,  he  doubted  if  the  King  himself  had  one  quite 
like  it. 

"  It's  marvellous,  whatever  it  is,"  said  Mrs. 
Scrannell,  impressively,  as  she  slid  forward  a  pro- 
blematical piece  of  bacon.  Her  turn  had  arrived. 
"  I  wasn't  born  to  know  one  blessed  note  from 
another,  but  that  there  thing's  lifelike.  Ah,  you're 
a-lookin'  up,  Mr.  Shadd  ;  you're  goin'  up  in  the 
world."  She  hitched  her  shawl -ends  tightly  to- 
gether, and  waited. 

This  was  the  crucial  moment,  traditionally  in- 
separable from  every  purchase  at  Shadd's  which 
required  weighing  ;  and  everyone  watched — not 
the  scales,  but  Mr.  Shadd's  mouth.  It  screwed 
up  ;  it  began  to  emit  tentative,  whistling  sounds. 

•*  F— f— f— "  The  thrill  deepened—for  Mrs. 
Scrannell,  at  all  events.  Mr.  Shadd,  who  spoke 
quite  fluently  at  other  times,  invariably  developed 
a  stammer — or,  rather,  a  series  of  retarding  sniffs 
— as  his  scales  swung.  You  never  could  tell.  It 
seemed  a  mere  toss-up  whether,  in  this  particular 
instance,  his  **  F — f — f — "  would  materialize  into 
"fourpence"  or  "fivepence."  **F — f — fivepence- 
ha 'penny  !  " 

Sympathetic  silence,  while  he  wrapped  up  the 
bacon.  As  one  injured  Mrs.  Scrannell  paid  her 
money  and  flung  away.  "  Said  he  was  a-lookin' 
up,  didn't  I?"  she  observed  audibly  to  another 
lady,  in  passing.     "  You  can  have  a  lot  o'  parties 


LOW    SOCIETY  3 

and  screechin'  barrel-organs  on  short  weight. 
What  d'  you  say?  " 

**  Well,  there  you  are  I  "  said  the  other  lady, 
compelled  to  ambiguity.  Her  piece  of  cheese  was 
on  the  scale,  and  Mr.  Shadd's  mouth  had  twisted. 

"  T — t — t — threepence.     That  do?  " 

**  Have  to  do,  if  you  can't  make  it  tuppence." 
She  looked  round,  and  caught  sight  of  a  fugitive 
ham-bone.  **  Selina's  birthday,  is  it?  Fancy  !  I 
never  knew  she  could  sing  like  that." 

**  Oh,  she  can  sing,"  said  Mr.  Shadd,  with  the 
aloof  air  of  one  not  disposed  to  tell  everyone  that 
his  daughter  had  refused  to  lead  the  chorus  at 
Covent  Garden.      "Anything  more?" 

**  Er — no  1  I  was  jest  lookin'  at  that  queer 
shank — that's  all.     I  see  there's  nothin'  on  it." 

"  Nothing  on  it?  "  Mr.  Shadd  held  it  out  and 
turned  it  all  ways.  "  That's  meat — and  so's  that 
—and  that.     That'll  sell." 

•*  Well,  don't  be  so  huffy,  Mr.  Shadd.  I  was 
only  thinkin*.     How  much?  " 

"  S — s — s — "  He  scratched  his  head,  and  turned 
the  bone  over  again.  **  S — s — s — sevenpence- 
ha*penny  to  you  !  " 

"  I'll  send  our  dog  round  for  it." 

She  walked  out.  Not  at  all  hurt  or  surprised, 
Mr.  Shadd  stooped  to  wipe  his  hands  on  an  invi- 
sible cloth  that  had  done  long  and  staunch  service, 
and  rose  to  the  remaining  customers .  One  required 
a  bundle  of  wood  ;  another,  a  halfpennyworth  of 
mixed  pickles  in  a  very  large  basin.  As  the  third 
had  waited  for  a  two -ounce  packet  of  Somebody's 
tea,  and  Mr.  Shadd  never  departed  from  his  own 
special  blend,  the  shop  was  soon  clear  again  for 

B    2 


4  LOW   SOCIETY 

another  brief  spell.  Mr.  Shadd  looked  round  for 
the  boy  who  was  paid  fourpence  to  call  out 
**  Shop  !  "  and  look  business-like  for  two  evenings 
a  week. 

"At  them  biscuits  again?"  he  said,  sternly. 
"  That's  the  last  time.  If  I  see  you  near  the  tub 
again,  I'll  stop  your  character.     So  mind  !  " 

There  was  a  door  behind  him,  jealously  cur- 
tained for  the  occasion.  Opening  it  quickly,  to 
avoid  letting  out  too  much  of  the. gaiety  and  gran- 
deur, he  passed  as  from  one  world  into  another . 

Little  Chinese  lanterns  hung  in  festoons  from 
wall  to  wall,  mostly  dripping  grease  unnoticed  ; 
the  new  rose -pink  globes  lent  another  touch  of 
romance,  that  reflected  itself  in  fair  cheeks  and 
small  bits  of  exposed  bosom  ;  and  over  all  bellied 
the  gorgeous  inscription — **  Many  happy  returns 
of  the  day  " — which  Selina's  young  man  had  spent 
a  fortnight  in  cutting  out  of  tinsel  paper  and  past- 
ing on  a  crimson  cloth.  It  was  a  labour  of  love 
which  conceivably  had  exhausted  his  interest  in 
the  affair,  as  at  the  moment  of  Mr.  Shadd's 
re-entry  he  was  sitting  pronouncedly  apart,  with 
arms  crossed,  and  a  fixed,  moody  expression. 
Selina's  duet  with  the  "  clever  instrument  "  had 
ended  ;  a  dance  "  gallop  "  kept  all  the  furniture 
in  a  rattle. 

"What's  all  this?"  Mr.  Shadd  whispered 
anxiously  to  his  wife.  "  Won't  he  eat?  Haven't 
we  made  enough  of  him?  " 

**  'Tisn't  that,"  she  whispered  back.  She  was  a 
wispy,  faded  woman  with  spectacles,  whose  idea 
of  playing  hostess  had  turned  out  to  be  to  stand 
timidly  in  a  corner,  nodding  and  smiling  mechani- 


LOW    SOCIETY  5 

cally  at  any  of  the  company  who  caught  her  eye. 
Whenever  any  of  the  dancers  butted  into  her,  she 
said  :  "  Oh,  my  1  There  now  !  "  as  if  she  enjoyed 
it,  and  resumed  her  nodding.  "  'Tisn't  that. 
You  should  have  shut  the  shop.  You've  made 
yourself  look  cheap,  as  you  invariably  do." 

Mr.  Shadd  stared  askance  at  Selina's  young 
man.  The  latter  stared  past  as  if  unaware  of  any 
sound  or  movement  about  him,  much  less  of 
undercurrents. 

"  The  shop's  nothing  to  do  with  this,"  retorted 
Mr.  Shadd.  "Where's  your  blind  eyes?  Stop 
Selina  galloping  and  giggling  up  and  down  with 
that  fast-and-loose  young  Sanders.  Stop  it  this 
instant,  or  she'll  lose  him  and  his  money  1  " 

"  Shall  I  tell  her  someone  wants  her  outside 
a  minute  ?  " 

**  Yes — if  you  want  me  to  box  her  ears  and 
upset  everything.  The  young  hussy  I — I  see  what 
it  is.  She's  started  her  games  already,  to  make 
him  show  jealousy  ;  and  he's  fell  into  it.  And — 
just  look  at  Casswade  !  You're  a  beauty  to  leave 
in  charge  of  a  birthday  party,  you  are.  Look  at 
him — nearly  black  in  the  face  1  " 

His  hasty  rush  round  the  room  was  justified. 
At  all  times  bluff  and  aggressive  in  manner,  Mr. 
Casswade's  aspect  at  this  juncture  was  unnerving 
in  view  of  the  fact  that  only  under  abnormal  pres- 
sure had  he  been  prevailed  upon  to  suspend  his 
social  superiority  and  put  in  two  hours  with  the 
Shadds  on  this  exceptional  occasion — '*  Jest  as  a 
favour,  mind  ;  Fm  not  everybody's  *  how-d'-ye- 
do  ?  '  "  A  special  chair,  table,  and  decanter  had 
been  set   apart  for  Mr.   Casswade  near  the   fire- 


6  LOW    SOCIETY 

place,  and  he  had  been  ushered  into  the  room  like 
an  Eastern  potentate  ;  but,  somehow  or  other,  the 
young  persons  present  had  overcome  their  awe  and 
allowed  him  to  slip  into  the  background.  When, 
several  times  during  Mr.  Shadd's  absence,  he  had 
opened  his  mouth  to  speak,  some  gust  of  merri- 
ment had  swamped  him  ;  and  gradually  the  little, 
fish -like  eyes  in  Casswade's  face  had  sunk  almost 
out  of  sight  in  proportion  as  his  cheeks  took  on  an 
apoplectic  bulge.  In  short,  as  Casswade  set  down 
his  glass  with  a  bang,  he  was  obviously  on  the 
point  of  rising  and  departing  without  any 
ceremony. 

**  Another  drop  I — just  a  wee  taste  1  "  said  Mr. 
Shadd  in  his  ear,  feverishly.  "  Try  something 
different.  I'm  sure,  you're  drinking  nothing — on 
Selina's  birthday,  too  !  And,  here  you  haven't 
touched  the  cigars  1  " 

"Haven't  I?"  Casswade  muttered,  allowing 
himself  to  subside  a  little.  **  Oh,  yes,  I  have. 
And  don't  get  any  more  like  'em,  that's  all — not 
when  I'm  asked."  He  thumped  the  small  table. 
**  If  I'd  thought  I  wasn't  goin'  to  be  allowed  to 
hear  myself  even  speak,  I  wouldn't  have  come  ; 
and  that's  plain." 

"  You  see,"  breathed  the  other,  hastily,  "  tliis 
isn't  what  you  might  call  a  grown-up 
reception " 

*'  No,  you're  right  there."  Casswade  shifted 
ominously  in  the  best  arm-chair.  **  It's  a  recep- 
tion of  bloomin'  upstarts  and  fools,  from  what  I 
can  make  of  it.  But  go  on — don't  let  me  keep 
you  out  o'  the  shop." 

"Business   is   business,   isn't   it?"    Mr.   Shadd 


LOW    SOCIETY  7 

suggested,  meekly.  **  You  were  always  of  that 
way  of  thinking  yourself,  weren't  you?  Do  have 
something  to  take,  Mr.  Casswade— try  a  little 
cider  in  it  1  *' 

**  Cider?  My  dear  man,  there  ain't  such  a 
thing  to  be  got — in  Barkin' — at  your  price.  Of 
course,  I  don't  expect — ■■ — " 

'*  Of  course  not  1  "  It  was  a  joyful  sign  that 
Mr.  Casswade's  eyes  had  begun  to  reappear  from 
behind  the  bulge  of  flesh.  They  must  be  induced 
right  out,  at  any  cost.  **  As  I  said,  we  felt  we 
must  at  some  time  or  other  begin  to  feel  our  feet, 
and  give  the  girl  a  chance  to  meet  with  her 
equals  ;    and  it  being  her   birthday " 

"  Oh,  cert'nly — cert'nly  1  Not  that  I  ever  had 
a  birthday,  or  ever  wanted  one.  Decent  girl,  I 
dessay,  when  she's  had  the  corners  knocked  off — 
which  isn't  yet  by  any  means.  And  a  fairish  voice, 
no  doubt,  if  she  didn't  sing  so  loud." 

**  Loud  I  "  said  Mr.  Shadd,  crestfallen.  "  Well, 
seeing  I've  been  paying  ten  shillings  a  quarter  this 
last  six  weeks  to  have  it " 

"  So  you  said.  I  don't  want  to  hear  all 
that.  Money  wasted.  You  should  have  put  it 
into  bricks  and  mortar,  same  as  I  did.  Look  at 
me,  now  ! — and  look  at  you  1  " 

**  Ah,  indeed  1  "  Mr.  Shadd,  duly  impressed, 
thought  it  politic  to  turn  the  topic.  "  What  did 
you  think,  yourself,  of  Selina's  young  man?  "  he 
ventured,  carelessly. 

"Me?  Which  is  Selina's  young  man?  "  Cass- 
wade demanded.  "  I  can't  see  him  ;  they  all 
look  alike  to  me,  in  this  bluster." 

'*  Can't  see  Selina's  young  man?  "  Mr.  Shadd 


8  LOW    SOCIETY 

whispered  it  almost  in  horror.  "  Haven't  you 
been  introduced?  Why,  that's  him — the  fair, 
shortish  one,  with  the  pale,  freckled  look  and 
green  tie — facing  this  way.  I  wouldn't — I  mean, 
he's  rather  nervous  of  being  looked  at  for  long,  I 
fancy." 

"Him?"  Mr.  Casswade  brought  his  thick 
neck  round  so  that  he  could  glare  with  a  bull -like 
intensity  at  the  young  man  indicated.  "  Well,  I 
don't  think  much  of  him,  whatever  your  daughter 
does.     Is  he  after  her,  or  your  shop,  or  what?  " 

**  Oh,  it's  a  case  of  pure  love,"  confided  the 
other.  '*  At  least,  she  says  so.  He's  got  money 
of  his  own,  you  know — how  much,  we  should  really 
like  to  find  out,  for  her  sake  ;  only,  from  what  we 
can  gather,  he  doesn't  quite  know  what  to  do 
with  it." 

"  Oh  1  "  Casswade's  dislike  at  sight  visibly 
modified.  **  I'd  like  to  have  a  word  with  him.  I 
maintain  he  can't  do  better  than  put  it  into  bricks 
and  mortar,  same  as  I've  done.  What  is  he,  and 
who  is  he  ?  I  thought  I  knew  everybody  in  Barkin' 
worth  knowin'." 

"  Well — 'er — at  present  he's  employed  in  some- 
thing at  Beckton,  we  understand  ;  but  hopes " 

'*  That's  enough."  Mr.  Casswade  wheeled  round 
to  spit  into  the  fire.  "  If  that's  her  taste — a  per- 
manent stink  o'  gas.  Chinamen  and  sewers — 
Beckton  !— well  !  " 

'*  Quite  so,"  the  other  hurried  on,  artfully  refill- 
ing the  glasses.  "  But  the  money's  there,  right 
enough.  The  only  mystery  is — how  much.  We 
thought,  if  they  could  start  some  business  together, 
say,  in " 


LOW    SOCIETY  9 

"Yes — in  what?"  The  glass  was  suspended 
near  Cass  wade's  lips.     **  In  what?  " 

"  Well,  we've  got  to  ascertain.  It  might  be  a 
milliner's,  or  a  fish  shop " 

"  Then,  you  ain't  goin'  to  make  him  buy  his 
own  house  ?  He's  goin'  to  keep  her  payin'  rent  all 
her  bloomin'  life  when  she  could  end  up  with  a 
street  of  houses — like  me?"  And  Mr.  Shadd 
fumbled  a  hand  nervously  over  his  mouth  a 
moment. 

**  Well,  you  see,  we  haven't  all  got  your  special 
gift  in  that  line,  Mr.  Casswade.  I  know  two  or 
three  who " 

**  Two  or  three  stark  idiots.  Gift  be  blowed. 
Houses  mean  money.     Look  at  me  !  " 

"  Yes,  I  am  looking  at  you,"  he  had  to  say, 
although  he  was  looking  the  other  way.  "  What 
I  mean  is,  he  might  think  of  it  ;  but  I  fancy  Selina 
thinks  she  knows  too  much  to — er — let  him " 

**  You  mean,  she  ain't  buyin'  one  o*  my  houses  ? 
Well,  let  him  shove  his  money  down  the  nearest 
drain -pipe,  for  all  I  care  I  " 

And  it  was  almost  providential  that  at  this 
instant  the  voice  of  the  boy  beyond  was  heard 
roaring  out  **  Shop  !  "  For  Mr.  Casswade,  with  a 
deep  breath,  had  half  risen  again. 

Left  alone  with  second  thoughts,  he  subsided 
once  more,  and  sat  deep  in  tense  reflection. 


CHAPTER    II 

"What  do  you  think  of  him?"  Selina  was 
enquiring,  with  a  side-nod  in  the  direction  of  Mr. 
Casswade.  She  had  detached  herself  at  last  from 
the  fast -and -loose  Sanders,  sat  down  beside  the 
freckled  young  man  with  the  pale  look,  and  was 
fanning  herself  demurely. 

"Who?"  he  asked,  stonily.  It  took  George 
Baversham  more  than  a  few  seconds  to  get  over 
his  first  spasm  of  jealousy  ;  and  he  meant  her  to 
divine  that  very  possibly  he  never  would  get 
over  it. 

"  Why,  that's  Mr.  Matt  Casswade.  You  must 
know  him  I — he's  got  whole  streets  of  new  houses 
to  let  or  sell  round  about  here.  He'd  have  been 
on  the  Council — very  likely  Mayor — if  he  could 
read  and  write.  Don't  be  silly,  dear  !  "  She 
darted  her  closed  fan  into  his  waistcoat,  somewhere 
over  his  heart.  And  the  young  man  started  and 
drew  himself  up  as  stiffly  as  was  possible  in  a 
sitting  position. 

"  Thank  you  for  breaking  my  watch,"  he  said. 
"  No>  I  don't  know  any  thin'  about  the  gentleman, 
except  that  I  shouldn't  like  to  keep  him  in  drink. 
Is  he  any  relation  of  yours,  may  I  ask  ?  " 

**  Well,  not  quite  what  you  would  term  a  rela- 
tion," she  admitted,  looking  with  a  provoking 
dreaminess   into   his   flushed  face.      "  But   we've 


LOW    SOCIETY  II 

known  him  for  years,  in  a  way.  He's  very  nice — 
if  you  can  get  on  with  him.  And  rich  ! — he  says 
himself  he  doesn't  know  what  he's  worth — only  it's 
all  locked  up  in  property.  Wasn't  it  good  of  him 
to  come  so  informal  on  my  birthday  ?  Do  you 
think  we  shall  ever  have  property?  "  she  enquired, 
with  another  stimulating  dart  at  his  waistcoat. 

**  Don't  do  that  !  "  George  half  shouted.  He 
went  white  this  time.  "  If  you're  goin'  to  play  the 
fool  with  me,  jest  to  show  off  before  your  dressed- 
up  friends " 

**  Oh,  very  well  ;  that's  enough."  Selina 
stood  up,  fanning  languidly.  The  excitement  of 
the  occasion  had  certainly  churned  a  little  feminine 
devilment  in  her,  to  Mrs.  Shadd's  undisguised  and 
nodding  dismay.  **  Perhaps  you're  put  out  because 
I  had  my  bodice  cut  rather  low  for  to-night. 
Most  men  would  have  said  whether  they  liked  it 
— or  disliked  it,  as  the  case  may  be." 

**  The  case  is,  that  I  never  noticed  it,"  he 
replied,  coldly,  keeping  his  eyes  quite  away  from 
the  bosom  that  just  then  was  swelling  effectively. 

"  I  must  say,"  Selina  whispered,  "  in  some  ways 
you're  a  perfect  pig." 

'*  Think  so  ?  If  I  was  a  pig,  I  might  have 
noticed  it — probably  should." 

*'  Meaning  you  think  me  just  the  sort  to 
encourage  pigs  ?  " 

"  Well,  the  right  sort  of  man  seemed  to  fasten 
on  you  at  once,  didn't  he?  I  dessay  he  said 
whether  he  liked  it,  more  than  once." 

Selina,  avoiding  her  mother's  painful  stare, 
tittered.  But  she  was  not  disposed  to  go  too  far 
on  the  first  occasion. 


12  LOW    SOCIETY 

**  Mr.  Sanders?  I  thought  the  fat  was  in  the 
fire/'  she  said,  softly.  "As  it  happens,  he  did  ; 
and  he  got  as  good  as  he  gave.  Come  to  that, 
I  hate  the  man  ;  but  I'm  not  going  to  tell  him  so 
to  his  face,  for  you  or  anyone.  I  hate  any  man 
that  can't  keep  himself  steady  and  runs  after 
every  woman  he  fancies.  Oh,  I  know  ;  I've  heard 
all  about  his  little  goings-on.  I  suppose  you're 
steady,  when  you're  out  of  sight? — I've  never 
asked  you,  although  it's  my  perfect  right,"  she 
added,  with  a  casualness  that  did  not  quite  conceal 
her  keen  desire  to  know. 

**  Middlin',"  George  muttered,  with  indifference 
to  match.  "  If  I'm  not,  I'm  clever  enough  to  keep 
it  to  myself." 

"  Ah  I  "  She  would  have  died  sooner  than 
betray  the  quickened  movements  of  her  corsage. 
**  I  begin  to  think  I  hate  all  men  !  " 

**  Rather  a  pity  your  wearin'  one's  ring,  then. 
Looks  as  if  you're  quite  ready  to  take  any  risk  that 
way,  doesn't  it  ?  " 

"I'm  not  so  sure,  George."  She  slid  it  tenta- 
tively up  and  down  the  finger  on  which,  with  Mr. 
Shadd's  dramatic  consent,  he  had  placed  it  three 
hours  previously.  "  Second  thoughts  are  funny 
things  at  times,  aren't  they?  S'pose  I  did  take  it 
into  my  head  I  wouldn't  bind  myself  down  to  any 
man  who  can't  prove  he's  been  all  he  ought  to  be  : 
I  s'pose  you'd  be  found  with  a  gas-bag  or  some- 
thing of  that  strapped  to  your  nose?  " 

"  Me?  "  The  allusion  to  that  organ  under  such 
circumstances  appeared  to  tickle  George,  by  the 
derisive  snort  he  gave.  '*  What  I  Don't  you  ever 
run  away  with  that  idea.     Why  " — he  snapped  his 


LOW    SOCIETY  13 

finger  and  thumb — "  I  could  go  out  and  find 
another  girl  inside  an  hour." 

**  And  a  nice  beauty  she'd  be  !  ...  Go  out 
and  find  her,  then  !  " 

Selina  had  stood  very  still  and  lofty  for  a 
moment,  and  then,  under  cover  of  her  spread  fan, 
burst  into  tears.  It  scared  George  as  nothing  else 
could  have  done.  He  glanced  round  nervously, 
not  at  all  like  a  man  inured  to  callous  debauchery. 

"  Stop  that,"  he  said  between  set  teeth. 
"Selina  I  You  don't  s'pose  I  meant  it,  do  you? 
Be  quiet — quick  I     I  never  said  anything  at  all  1  *' 

•*  Oh — oh — yes,  you  did.  And— and  very  likely 
she's  outside,  and  knows  more  about  you  than 
I  do." 

"  Listen  ;  look  here,"  George  said,  in  a  voice 
gone  suddenly  deep  ;  "  if  anyone  but  you  said  such 
a  thing  as  that  about  me,  I'd  swing  for  him  at 
Newgate  an  hour  later.     Believe  that?  " 

And  Selina  took  the  little  square  of  lace  from 
her  eyes.  The  unlikely  swiftness  of  the  hypothe- 
tical trial  and  execution  for  murder  quite  escaped 
her. 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  believe,"  she  faltered. 
"  Women  are  not  supposed  to  know  anything.  I 
do  know  that  you've  spoilt  my  face  for  the  even- 
ing, and " 

"  Don't  be  silly.  Spoil  that  I  Keep  it  down 
till  you're  out  o'  the  room,  and  just  run  and  sluice 
it.  Go  on,  dear  !  That  old  Casswade  keeps 
lookin'  at  us.  Here's  your  father  back  again — I 
don't  want  him  to  begin  askin'  what's  the  matter. 
I  can't  stand  bein'  jawed  at  ;  and  I  won't  have  any 
interference  between  me  and  my  wife— that  will 
be." 


14  LOW    SOCIETY 

"  That's  a  nice  way  to  put  it  I  "  she  whispered. 
Nevertheless,  she  was  considerably  soothed  by  the 
marital  reference,  and  perhaps  not  at  all  displeased 
if  any  of  the  company  had  noticed  how  quickly  her 
tears  brought  him  to  his  senses.  "  If  you'd  sit 
like  this  on  my  birthday,  like  a  bear  in  the  back 
of  its  cage,  how  would  you  be  after  we're  man  and 
wife?     That's  what  I've  got  to  ask  myself." 

**  I  should  be  just  what  you  made  me,  same  as 
any  other  man.     Isn't  that  fair  enough?  " 

Selina  pondered.  Someone  had  started  to  sing 
"  The  Holy  City,"  and  attention  was  further  dis- 
tracted by  the  chatter  of  those  who  did  not  care 
for  that  song.  Besides,  it  was  not  often  that 
Selina  could  induce  her  young  man  to  state  his 
real  views  as  to  future  domestic  details.  It 
seemed  deliciously  like  taking  a  surreptitious  peep 
into  the  bridal  chamber  beforehand. 

"  I  shall  expect  a  lot,"  she  said,  ethereally. 
*'  For  one  thing,  I  couldn't  bear  a  husband  that 
grew  stout,  or  anything  of  that — unless  he  grew 
stout  all  over,  of  course.     And " 

"  Do  I  look  like  it  ?  "  he  enquired,  hurt.  "  Do 
I  ?  Besides,  if  I  did,  could  I  help  myself  ?  One 
thing  and  another,  you're  goin'  beyond  all  bounds, 
you  are." 

**  No  ;  it  only  just  struck  me — if  you  did  happen 
to  get  like  Mr.  Casswade.  I  couldn't  come  near 
you,  or  walk  out  with  you,  and  that's  the  solemn 
truth.     But  he  drinks  a  good  deal,  of  course." 

"  Does  he?  Oh  1  you  mean,  when  other  people 
pay  for  it,"  George  sneered.  "  I'm  no  particular 
class  myself,  p'r'aps  ;  but  if  I  looked  as  if  I  laid 
under  a  barrel-tap  all  night " 


LOW    SOCIETY  15 

"  Never  mind  Mr.  Casswade/'  she  put  in, 
hastily.  George,  transparently,  had  conceived  a 
silly  antipathy  at  sight  toward  the  wealthy  friend 
of  the  family  ;  it  must  be  removed — but  not  just 
now,  when  the  topic  was  approaching  the  semi- 
sacred  so  nicely.  She  sank  her  voice  almost  to 
nothing.  "  Some  husbands  don't  kiss  their  wives 
so  much  after  marriage,  do  they? — and  drop  all 
their  little  fondling  ways  ?  " 

*•  Well,"  George  said,  obstinately,  "  that  all 
depends  on  whether  the  woman  keeps  herself  as 
kissable  as  she  did  before.     Would  with  me  !  " 

**  But  she  can't  always  be  dressed-up  and — and 
dainty,  as  you  call  it,  when  she's  got  her  work  to 
do?  And  men  like  their  meals,  and  their  litter 
cleared  away,   goodness  knows." 

**  Yes,  I  do  myself,"  he  admitted.  *'  Fact  of  it 
is,  it's  like  this  :  women  expect  a  sight  too  much 
in  that  way.  And  there  you  are  !  Strictly  speak- 
ing, a  man  makes  a  fool  of  himself  before  mar- 
riage, cuddlin'  and  all  that  sort  o'  thing " 

"  You  don't,"  Selina  whispered  in.  He  was  not 
sure  whether  to  take  it  as  a  touch  of  pride  in  him 
or  otherwise. 

"  Don't  I  ?  Well,  at  any  rate,  nine  out  of  ten 
do.    And  then,  when  he  gets  over  it  a  bit " 

"Why  should  he?"  she  enquired,  narrowly. 
**  A  woman  doesn't.  Why  doesn't  he  get  tired  of 
his  meals,  by  the  same  rule  ?  A  woman  always 
feels  the  same — if  he'll  let  her  ;  and  thinks  just  as 
much  of  a  man  in  his  old  clothes — so  they  say." 

And  George  felt  that  he  could  take  out  a 
cigarette  and  smoke  it  now  complacently. 

"  So  they  say,"  he  repeated.     "  You  go  in  the 


1 6  LOW    SOCIETY 

park,  and  look  at  all  the  hens  struttin'  round  the 
peacock — human  and  otherwise.  That's  enough  ; 
I  know  all  about  it." 

Selina  drew  a  long  breath,  looked  round,  and 
was  relieved  to  see  that  somebody  else — palpably 
to  Mr.  Casswade's  swelling  disgust — had  volun- 
teered to  recite  if  anyone  present  could  imitate 
sleigh-bells  and  wolves'  howls  at  a  distance. 
Several  could,  it  seemed,  and  were  rehearsing 
beforehand,  while  the  recitation  was  being  written 
out  as  "  prompter's  "  index  to  the  howls  and  bells. 
In  the  mixture  of  sound,  Selina  was  able  unnoticed 
to  draw  up  her  chair  and  sit  so  that  her  knees 
touched  George's  knees.  He  was  thus  cornered  by 
Love,  and  had  the  tinted  gas-light  nicely  across 
his  face,  too,  as  a  guide  to  dissimulation. 

"  There's  only  one  little  thing  I  think  I  ought 
to  ask  you,  now  we're  together — now  we're  en- 
gaged, I  mean,"  she  said.  "  There's  a  lot  in  it, 
so  don't  laugh.  Supposing  we  ever  had  a  tiff — 
supposing  we  did — would  you  expect  me  to  give 
way?    Because  I  couldn't." 

**  Why  not?  "  demanded  George,  astounded. 

'*  Could  you?  "  she  parried,  very  earnestly. 

"  Of  course  I  could,  if  I  knew  I  was  in  the 
wrong." 

**  Ah,  then,  you  never  would  !  And  that's  just 
it  :  if  we're  going  to  wrangle  and  squabble  all  our 
lives,  perhaps — perhaps  after  all  it's  best  if  we 
kept  as  we  are." 

**  What  d'you  mean?  "  George  queried,  keenly. 
**  That  I'm  goin'  to  walk  you  out  year  after  year, 
and  buy  you  gold  rings  and  sweets,  and  come  here 
on  your  birthday,  and  get  nothin'  for  it  ?     A  good 


LOW    SOCIETY  17 

idea,  I  admit  ;  but  if  that's  what  women  expect  of 
a  man — well,  I  hope  you'll  find  one  made  to  fit. 
But  it  won't  be  Baversham." 

"  You're  so  practical."  Selina  seemed  doubt- 
ful whether  to  burst  into  tears  again  or  not.  **  You 
know  I  don't  mean  that.     I  mean " 

*'  Yes  ;  what  the  hell  do  you  mean  ?  "  he  asked, 
with  warmth.     And  Selina  drew  back  witheringly. 

•*  That's  nice — swearing  on  my  birthday,  now  1 
It's  the  first  time  I  knew  you  swore — to  me,  at  any 
rate." 

"  Don't  be  silly.  If  a  man  can't  speak  out  plain 
before  your  face,  you  know  he  does  it  behind  your 
back.  It's  rubbish  talkin'  anythin'  about  what's 
goin'  to  happen  after  marriage  ;  let's  get  married, 
and  see.  When  I  was  a  boy,  and  bought  a  ha'penny 
prize  packet,  did  I  go  back  snivellin'  because  there 
wasn't  a  threepenny -bit  in  it  ?  No.  And  I  shouldn't 
expect  you  to  go  comin'  back  to  your  father's, 
and  sayin'  I  was  mean,  or  was  gettin'  stout,  or 
made  you  work,  or  anythin'  o'  that,  I  can  assure 
you.  I  don't  know  what's  the  matter  with  you  to- 
night, and  that's  plain." 

Selina  wiped  her  eyes,  but  thought  it  best  not 
to  try  and  explain  more  fully.  George,  it  seemed 
clear,  had  no  unprobed  depths  to  speak  of. 

"  Father  was  wondering,"  she  turned  off,  a  little 
absently,  "  what  sort  of  business  would  really  suit 
us  best,  and  if  our  tastes  were  alike,  and  about  how 
much  you  felt  you  could  afford  to  put  into  it  as 
a " 

*'  Ha  1  "  George  crossed  his  legs  very  firmly, 
and  hugged  the  knees.  "  I  know.  And  that's 
jest  what  I'm  not  goin'  to  tell  him  or  anyone  else. 

L.s.  c 


1 8  LOW    SOCIETY 

What  I've  got,  I've  got.  I  don't  want  it  all  round 
Barkin'  that  I'm  stumped  at  fifty  pounds — or  a 
thousand." 

"  I  should  think  not,  dear  !  "  Selina  said,  thrilled 
at  the  financial  margin.  "  What  I  mean  is,  if  we 
did  venture  anything  of  the  sort,  you  wouldn't 
expect  me  to  serve  behind  the  counter,  would 
you?" 

"  I  should,"  he  said,  '*  when  you  haven't  any- 
thin'  else  to  do — certainly,  if  you're  my  legal 
wife."     And  Selina  sat  slowly  back. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  think  I  shall  get  married  !  "  she 
said,  fanning  herself  furiously. 

"You  don't?  Did  you  think  I  should  take  a 
shop  and  put  a  dummy  in  it,  while  you  were 
upstairs  with  the  '  Family  Herald  '  and  the 
baby?  " 

**  No  !  "  Her  face  flamed  with  a  rush.  "  But 
I  thought  you  cared  for  me  a  little  bit,  and  didn't 
want  to  see  me  worn  to  death  and — and  get  to  look 
like  father  and  mother,  as  fiat  as  my  own  cheese — 
as  greasy  as  my  own  bacon.  Father  has,  at  least, 
kept  me  above  that,  and  paid  money  to  have  me — 
oh,  I  don't  want  to  talk  to  you  to-night  !  You've 
come  in  a  vile  temper — because  you've  had  to 
spend  two  pounds  on  my  ring,  I  suppose.  It's  all 
I  shall  ever  get,  I  can  see  that." 

"  Be  careful,"  George  warned,  darkly.  "  You're 
runnin'  on.  I've  stood  a  lot  to-night.  I  haven't 
forgotten  the  Sanders  bis'ness  yet,  if  you  have." 

"  Do  you — do  you  mean  that  you're  going  to 
pick  a  quarrel  with  him — and  fight — over  me?  " 
she    gasped. 

"  Fight  ?  "      George  reflected.      To  say  "  Yes  " 


LOW    SOCIETY  19 

would  be  to  commit  himself  to  an  undertaking  she 
might  enjoy  ;  to  say  '*  No  "  would  be  to  leave  a 
suspicion  of  his  physical  fitness.  "Wait  !  "  he 
temporised.  "  You  don't  need  any  preparations 
and  sparrin'  about  when  you're  goin'  to  tread  on  a 
beetle — or  a  ladybird,  if  you  like  that  better." 

"  But  what's  he  done?  "  Selina  persisted,  appa- 
rently amazed. 

**  He's  an  over-dressed,  under -fed  fop  ;  that's 
all." 

"  Good  gracious  1  And  lots  of  people  think  him 
quite  good-looking  and  taking." 

**  So  they  do  a  wax  model  in  a  tailor's  window." 

**  How  funny  !  "  She  laughed  out,  glad  of  the 
chance.  "  That's  just  what  he  is  —  a  tailor's 
cutter." 

**  I  knew  it,"  said  George,  with  a  calmness  that 
covered  the  falsehood.  **  But  he's  not  cuttin'  your 
weddin'  dress,  or  takin*  your  measure  at  any  birth- 
day party  again  ;  so  there  !  And  come  to  that,  if 
you'd  prefer  to  keep  single,  I'm  not  goin'  to  put 
myself  out  to  persuade  you.  So  p'r'aps  that's 
settled  for  the  best." 

"  Shop  !  "  roared  out  the  boy  beyond  the  cur- 
tained door,   above  the  din. 

And  the  irritating  frequency  of  this  summons, 
combined  with  the  general  inanity  of  things 
around,  seemed  to  decide  Mr.  Casswade.  For 
the  fifth  time  he  had  just  begun  on  his  deliberate 
diatribe  :  *'  I  maintain  that  if  a  man  really  means 
bis'ness,  I   don't  care  who  or  what  he  is,  bricks 

and  mortar "      And   for    the    fifth    time    Mr. 

Shadd's  precipitate  dart  for  the  shop  left  him  talk- 
ing to  fools  and  upstarts. 

C  2 


20  LOW    SOCIETY 

**  That's  done  it,"  Casswade  breathed,  to  him- 
self. 

He  finished  the  contents  of  the  decanter  at  a 
gulp,  waited  a  moment  to  avoid  any  appearance 
of  mere  pique,  and  then  was  moving  ponderously 
for  the  exit.  His  out-door  toilet  on  all  week- 
days consisted  of  the  peaked-cap  stuffed  in  his 
side -pocket. 

"  Can't  stand  too  much  o'  this  excitement,"  he 
said,  huskily,  to  Mrs.  Shadd,  who  was  still  nodding 
at  all  and  sundry  from  her  corner.  *'  I'll  say 
g'night." 

**  Going?  "  asked  Mr.  Shadd,  in  faint  dismay. 
He  had  just  weighed  a  half  of  shilling  fresh,  and 
in  his  chagrin  made  it  come  to  "  S — s — s — seven- 
pence  1  That  do?"  "Well,  you  needn't  have 
left  us  this  way,  Mr.  Casswade  ;  there's  the  side- 
entrance,  I  hope.  Here,  perhaps  you'll  take  a 
couple  of  new-laid  eggs  to  beat  up  before  break- 
fast ?     Do  1  " 

"How  come  you  by  new-laid  'uns  ?  "  asked 
Casswade,  turning  at  the  outer  door  suspiciously. 

"  Now,  now  !  "  Mr.  Shadd  put  up  a  playful 
finger,  to  indicate  close  mutual  business  acumen. 
People  outside  could  see  and  hear.  *'  I  don't  come 
by  them,  because  I've  got  no  room  for  fowls.  But 
Selina's  young  man,  knowing  she's  so  fond  of 
'em " 

*'  Let  her  have  'em.  I  don't  want  any  of  his 
eggs,"  Casswade  said,  with  what  was  thought  to 
be  a  laugh.  "  G'night.  Birthdays  ain't  in  my 
line.     Sooner  see  a  football  match,  any  day." 


CHAPTER    III 

In  the  semi -obscurity  outside — Tamplin  Street 
lying  well  back  from  the  main  thoroughfare  of 
Barking  Town — Mr.  Casswade  might  almost  have 
passed  for  an  ordinary,  everyday  person.  It  was 
not  raining,  but  odd  splashes  of  something  reached 
him  from  time  to  time  ;  and  he  had  to  hold  his 
breath  and  avoid  stepping  upon  children  who 
darted  hither  and  thither  without  warning,  like 
rabbits  in  a  warren — not  scorning  even  to  take 
full  advantage  of  a  bow-legged  man.  Mr.  Cass- 
wade had  already  given  his  opinion  of  Tamplin 
Street  as  a  residential  quarter  ;  but  to-night,  as  it 
happened,  he  was  in  a  ruminative,  detached  state 
of  mind  ;  and  the  audible  remarks  of  women  who 
sat  in  doorways  nursing  babies,  passed  him. 

It  was  only  of  late  that  Casswade  had  taken  to 
*'  maintaining  "  and  putting  on  flesh  so  freely  , 
and  with  it  he  had  been  compelled  to  develop  a 
slow,  rolling  style  of  locomotion  which,  luckily, 
passed  for  dignity  and  substance  in  Barking  Town, 
where  a  burly  policeman  is  far  more  useful  than 
a  thin  one.  Not  yet  short  of  breath,  he  was  sup- 
posed to  be  in  that  enviable  position  which  enables 
a  man  to  move  abroad  unhampered  by  any  such 
consideration  as  the  clock,  or  expense,  or  a  wife. 
If  Mr.  Casswade  denied  it,  that  was  his  method 
of  heightening  the  general  envy. 


22  LOW    SOCIETY 

His  stomach  aggressively  poised,  a  briar  pipe 
tilted  upwards  between  his  teeth,  he  swayed  in 
due  course  out  into  the  glow  and  hubbub  of  the 
High  Street.  Here  the  electric  cars  had  to  forge 
a  way — with  occasional  short,  sharp  spasms  of 
speed — at  walking-pace  through  a  crowd  as  thick 
as  bees  at  swarming -time  :  clusters  of  women  who 
stood  chatting  comfortably  between  the  rails,  and 
solid  phalanxes  of  men  with  hands  deep  in  pockets 
who  leisurely  moved  back  a  few  inches  as  the 
clang  of  the  car -bell  reached  frenzy -point. 

But  there  was  no  likening  Mr.  Casswade  to  a 
needle  in  a  human  haystack. 

*•  Evenin',  Matt  I  "  *'  How  do,  Mr.  Casswade?  " 
"  How's  things  lookin',  Matt?  "  **  Want  a  man, 
Mr.  Casswade?"  came,  varied  and  respectfully 
intimate,  from  a  succession  of  throats  as  he  passed 
along.  Some  of  the  women,  indeed,  seemed  to 
look  after  him  with  more  wistful  interest  than  his 
back  view  warranted.  But  Mr.  Casswade  did  not 
pause  at  all  to-night  until  the  end  of  High  Street 
was  reached — and  only  then,  maybe,  because  he 
discovered  to  his  surprise  that  it  was  not  yet  nine 
o'clock. 

Here,  on  a  Saturday  night,  there  was  invariably 
a  mass  of  cheap  food  for  reflection.  Three  streets 
meeting  formed  a  sort  of  irregular  triangle.  On 
the  far  right  was  a  fair  in  full  swing,  with  gratis 
music,  and  pictorial  representations  outside  of 
noble  dames  vaulting  white  chargers,  cavaliers 
flashing  rapiers,  and  spectres  gibbering,  which 
made  the  entrance -fee  of  twopence  seem  a  mere 
nominal  affair.  In  the  centre  of  the  triangle,  the 
banners,  drumbeats  and  fervent  voices  of  a  Salva- 


LOW    SOCIETY  23 

tion  Army  assemblage  provided  another  feast  of 
colour  and  sound  to  suit  different  tastes  ;  and 
between  the  two  was  a  buffer  of  naphtha-lit  stalls, 
at  which  crowds  stood  to  eat  jellied  eels  or  to 
watch  men  skinning  wild  rabbits  against  time. 
Away  on  the  left,  on  a  waste  piece  of  ground, 
another  mass  of  figures  was  ringed  about  a  man 
on  a  platform,  the  arms  and  legs  of  whom  at  this 
distance  seemed  to  be  moved  by  galvanic  agency. 

Mr.  Casswade,  his  thumbs  hooked  in  his  waist- 
coat, strolled  forward  to  hear  better.  He  had  no 
political  opinions,  but  he  liked  to  see  a  man  make 
a  fool  of  himself. 

"What's  the  Empire?"  shrilly  shouted  the 
speaker.  "Any  answer?  None.  Dumb  voters, 
all  !  Then,  I'll  tell  you.  You're  the  Empire." 
He  leaned  back  and  became  almost  still  for  a 
moment,  while  he  veered  his  pointing  forefinger 
impressively  round  the  ring  below,  as  if  to  leave 
no  man  out  of  so  comprehensive  and  vital  a  state- 
ment. He  caught  sight  of  Mr.  Casswade  on  the 
outer  fringe,  and  promptly  included  that  gentle- 
man. He  was  a  small,  fiery -eyed  streak  of  a 
man,  evidently  exhausted  by  his  own  energy,  and 
with  one  tuft  of  yellow  hair  left,  that  curled  up 
from  his  scalp  like  a  limp  horn.  "  Ay  I  Perhaps 
you  don't  realize  it — perhaps  they  don't  intend  you 
to  realize  it  ;  but  you're  the  glorious  Empire. 
And  when  they  force  you  to  keep  up  the  Empire 
by  relentless  payment  of  rates  and  taxes,  they 
logically  imply  that  you're  to  be  maintained,  if 
necessary.  But  do  they  do  it?  My  heaven,  do 
they?    I  ask  you,  my  dumb  friends  I — do  they?  " 

Not  an  intelligible  sound.     He  executed  a  series 


24  LOW    SOCIETY 

V 

of  rapid  movements,  as  if  to  master  some  hidden 
emotion  —  became  still  —  and  proceeded  in  a 
straining  whisper,  which  might  have  more  effect. 
He  was  evidently  nothing  if  not  sincere  and 
steeped  in  his  subject. 

*'  Think  !  Men  of  Barking,  close  your  eyes  and 
think  I  Walking  this  town  to-night  are  hundreds 
of  men  who'll  dream  of  a  breakfast  that  isn't  there 
when  they  come  downstairs  at  dawn.  Next  week 
— ay,  perhaps  sooner — they'll  dream  of  a  bed  that 
isn't  beneath  'em,  because  it's  been  taken  or  sold 
for  rent.  Look  across  there,  at  the  glow  over 
Greater  London  1  See  it? — our  rich,  free,  beauti- 
ful London — the  hub  of  the  universe  and  the  ideal 
of  social  and  commercial  prosperity  !  What  do 
you  see  ?  On  one  hand,  you  see  befurred  and 
bejewelled  women  motoring  past  with  other 
women's  husbands  in  endless  patrician  array — 
from  Hyde  Park  to  the  theatre,  from  the  theatre 
to  the  restaurant,  and  back  again — living  to  eat, 
and  to  kill  time,  and  to  mock  at  morality.  That's 
West  ! — that's  the  area  upon  which  Almighty's 
sun  ever  shines.  .  .  .  Now  look  East.  D'you 
see — see — see  them?"  He  crouched  low,  his 
eyes  full  of  horror,  his  shaking  finger  suggesting 
a  slowly-darkening  stage.  "  There — there — there 
it  goes,  on  the  other  side  of  the  line  which  man 
created  and  God  allowed  :  the  silent,  famished, 
tattered  army  that  grows  and  grows  every  year, 
and  that  to-night  in  London  alone  numbers  over 
a  hundred  thousand  men.  One  hundred  thousand 
living  men — many  with  wives  and  children  1  " 

A  suitable  pause.  He  did  not  move.  Even 
Mr.  Casswade  had  to  look  in  the  direction  indi- 


LOW    SOCIETY  25 

cated,  and  thought  he  could  see  something  of  the 
sort — allowing  for  the  haze  and  distance. 

"  Don't  stand  it  1  "  It  was  a  broken  roar,  that 
made  the  crowd  start.  The  thin  little  man  had 
leaped  upright  on  tiptoe  as  by  clockwork.  He 
was  convulsed.  **  Don't  endure  it  !  You  need 
not — you  shall  not  !  If  it's  the  richest  nation  in 
the  world — and  it  is — we  who  help  to  make  it  so 
will  refuse  to  starve.  We  will  refuse  even  to  live 
on  from  day  to  day  not  knowing  what  the  morrow 
may  bring  forth — ever  in  the  cursed  shadow  of 
unemployment.  Don't  accept  that  sop  in  the  pan 
— charity — any  longer.  Hurl  it  back.  While 
Members  of  Parliament  deliberate  at  ease,  your 
homes  are  being  sold  up.  It's  not  that  way  your 
one  hope  of  salvation  lies.  For  the  sake  of  your 
manhood,  for  your  wives  and  little  ones,  you  must 
realize  the  truth  that  revolutions  are  not  made  with 
rosewater.      You  must " 

At  this  interesting  point  he  was  checked.  Some- 
thing in  the  nature  of  an  anti -climax  had  come — 
as  it  does  frequently  in  Barking  Town. 

"  Look  out  I  "  yelled  voices  from  the  rear  in 
turn.     "  Bogie  1  Bogie's  got  'em  I  " 

The  crowd  heaved  and  turned  about.  If  the 
allusion  was  cryptical  to  many  in  it,  the  man  him- 
self soon  dispelled  all  uncertainty.  About  once  a 
month — generally  on  Saturday  evening — "  Bogie  " 
Lawrence  conceived  the  brilliant  idea  of  darting 
from  the  public -house  and  running  amok  through 
Barking.  And  here  he  was,  with  lowered  head, 
charging  a  way  through  the  crowd. 

He  fetched  up  beneath  the  platform,  shaking  his 
jaws   as   if  in   the  act   of   "  worrying  "   rats,   and 


26  LOW    SOCIETY 

grinning  horribly  up  at  the  thin  little  man,  who 
stood  looking  down  as  though  paralysed.  If 
facial  appearance  and  physical  bulk  went  for  any- 
thing, Bogie  certainly  had  an  unfair  advantage  of 
him,  being  a  giant  in  stature,  with  a  bullet 
head,  great  yellow  teeth,  and  features  differing  in 
no  way  from  a  negro's  saving  that  they  were  white 
when  washed.  Even  the  police  preferred  to 
edge  Bogie  Lawrence  down  quiet  side-streets 
into  obscurity,  rather  than  tackle  him,  at  such 
times . 

'*  Over  with  it.  Bogie  !  "  urged  someone  with  a 
sense  of  humour,  presumably  at  a  safe  distance. 
**  Bet  you,  you  can't  upset  the  show  I  " 

Down  went  Bogie's  head,  up  went  the  plat- 
form, and  out  went  the  lights.  What  became  of 
the  lecturer ^it  was  difficult  to  say.  At  any  rate, 
the  crowd  made  no  attempt  to  find  out,  and  Bogie 
was  left  in  undisputed  possession  of  the  wreckage. 
There  was  obviously  no  more  information  about 
the  Empire  that  night. 

The  only  thing  tolerably  certain  about  Mr. 
Lawrence's  next  impulse  was  that  he  would  not 
turn  and  charge  the  "  Army,"  which  never 
resented  it,  and  even  patted  him  on  the  back  and 
called  him  brother,  and  was  rumoured  to  have 
intentions  of  "  rescuing  "  him — when  it  could 
hold  him.  Casswade,  albeit  a  man  of  some  weight 
himself,  thought  it  prudent  not  to  attract  his  atten- 
tion, and  moved  on.  Besides,  he  had  business  in 
hand. 

On  Saturday  night.  Barking  Town  in  the  main 
resembles  most  a  huge  chunk  of  Whitechapel 
detached  bodily  and  set   down  amid  the  marshy 


LOW    SOCIETY  27 

misty,  flat  land  six  or  seven  miles  distant.  But 
in  later  years,  several  roads  with  fine  shops  and 
comparative  refinement  have  grown  out  of  it  like 
tentacles  ;  and  along  one  of  these  Casswade's  way 
lay.  And  presently  his  deliberate  roll  brought 
him  abreast  of  the  "  local  " — i.e.,  the  house  of 
call  to  which  he  lent  most  of  his  patronage. 

He  was  not  thirsty  ;  but  the  fact  of  the  public - 
house  being  there  made  refreshment  a  sort  of 
duty.  He  avoided  the  saloon  bar,  where  the 
glasses  were  too  small  and  the  jests  too  subtle  for 
his  liking  ;  and  passed  as  usual  into  the  happy 
medium  —  the  '*  private  "  or  "  three -ha'penny  " 
enclosure. 

'*  It's  really  you,  Mr.  Casswade  ?  "  said  the 
bright  bar-lady,  smiling,  as  she  reached  out 
instinctively  for  the  "  Hollands  "  bottle.  **  We 
wondered  what  had  become  of  you." 

Casswade  waved  the  bottle  away,  and  ruminated 
heavily.  He  was  not  finnicky,  but  Hollands  on  top 
of  half  a  decanter  of  whiskey  with  soda  and 
nothing  to  eat  had  its  obvious  drawbacks  ;  and  to 
hesitate  critically  was  the  privilege  of  one 
respected  for  his  holding  capacity.  **  I'll  have  a 
stout,"  he  said. 

**  The  gin  in  it  ?  "  she  enquired,  her  head 
sweetly  on  one  side. 

*'  Nothin'  in  it,"  he  replied.  "  I've  been  to  a 
birthday  party." 

"  Oh,  what  a  wicked  shame  !  "  she  said,  with 
shocked  sympathy.  "  Spoilt  your  evening."  And 
she  looked  at  him  with  concern,  clearly  expecting 
to  see  him  taken  ill . 

With   a  deep,    inward    "  Ah  I  "   Mr.    Casswade 


28  LOW    SOCIETY 

held  up  his  stout,  as  if  he  could  see  through  it — an 
analysis  generally  observed  as  essential  to  health 
and  good  judgment.  Then  he  drank  it,  and  then 
looked  round  him,  with  short  nods  to  the  company. 

A  sort  of  greeting,  expectant  hush  had  fallen 
upon  the  "  three -ha'penny  "  bar.  Just  how  long 
Casswade  remained,  and  whether  he  saw  fit  to 
enquire  after  anyone  else's  thirst,  depended 
strictly  as  a  rule  upon  the  trend  of  the  conversa- 
tion. Mere  domestic  details,  or  the  Government's 
suicidal  policy,  left  him  stony  and  *'  untouchable." 
The  choice  lay  between  "  business  "  and  purely 
personal  matters  ;  and  either  had  to  be  led  up  to 
casually,  as  without  design. 

**  Dunno  when  I  saw  you  looking  better,  Mr. 
Casswade — if  as  well,"  remarked  the  pioneer, 
taking  the  pipe  from  his  mouth  as  if  struck. 

"Think  so?"  asked  Casswade,  slowly.  "I 
ain't  married." 

"  Course  not.  That's  saying  something,  I 
admit.  You  can  sleep,  and  you  aren't  nagged  at 
all  day  for  more  money  ;  but  still " 

'*  No  woman  'ud  nag  me,"  said  Casswade, 
eyeing  him  fixedly.  "Why?  'Cause  I  should 
be  like  the  old  horse  when  the  vet.  went  to  blow  a 
powder  down  its  throat — I  should  blow  first.  No 
woman  'ud  nag  me,  my  dear  feller." 

**  Course  not.  Still — don't  he  look  the  living 
picture  of  health?     Can't  make  him  out." 

"  I  can."  Number  Two  finished  his  drink  and 
pushed  the  empty  glass  forward  absently.  "  Mr. 
Casswade's  got  his  own  rules  of  living,  and  abides 
by  'em.     You  and  me  don't.     And  there  you  are." 

The  depth  of  this  induced  a  pause.     Casswade 


LOW    SOCIETY  29 

swung  his  leg  and  glared  at  the  glass  bottles  on 
the  shelf.  He  was  under  admiring  inspection, 
like  a  prize  bullock  at  a  show,  so  to  speak — and 
also  conscious  that  his  one  blemish  could  hardly 
be  glossed  over. 

"Think  IVe  put  on  any  more  fat?"  he  en- 
quired, carelessly.  He  looked  down  at  himself, 
as  well  as  he  could  without  straining.  "  I  can't 
see  I  have,  myself.  Dunno  why  the  kids  should 
want  to  screech  '  Guts  !  '  after  me.     D'you?  " 

"  My  word,  no  !  "  They  looked  at  him  and 
at  each  other  in  mild  surprise.  One  pointed  his 
pipe.  **  I  was  saying  to  Harry  Taylor  just  the 
very  reverse,  not  a  week  ago.  Harry  '11  bear 
that  out." 

**  Not  a  week  ago,"  confirmed  Harry,  almost 
indignantly,  surveying  the  anatomical  bulge  fron- 
tally  and  sideways  for  proof.  "  No  ;  you've 
dropped   a  bit   somewhere,   that   you   have." 

**  Dunno  about  that,"  Casswade  said,  rather 
unappreciatively.  "  You  can't  go  by  looks  ;  you 
go  by  the  bloomin'  feel.  I  know  I  have  to  have 
a  new  pair  o'  trousers  about  every  two  months, 
whether  I  want  'em  or  not.  It  'ud  pay  me  to 
have  someone  to  let  'em  out.  Still,  I  don't 
reckon " 

'•  That's  six  pair  a  year."  They  found  the 
total  and  nodded  with  deep  interest.  Another  one 
was  moved  to  finish  his  refreshment.  "  Still,  as 
you  say,  that's  nothing  to  go  by — not  really,  mind 
you.  What  I  mean  is,  a  man  with  houses  to  let 
and  sell  must  keep  up  his  looks  or  go  under.  It 
all  depends  what  you  are.  Now,  if  you'd  happened 
to  be  in  the  butchering  line,  like  me " 


30  LOW    SOCIETY 

"  Thank  Gawd,  I  ain't,"  Casswade  said. 
"  Gimme  bricks  and  mortar." 

He  gulped  off  his  second  stout.  The  prospects 
had  seldom  seemed  more  favourable.  All  stood 
in  a  state  of  mental  absorption,  while  the  abrupt 
"  What's  yours? — and  yours?  "  gathered  in  Cass- 
wade *s  throat. 

But,  as  it  happened,  there  was  a  Jonah  aboard 
— a  Jonah  whom  they  could  have  knifed  where  he 
sat.  It  was  not  even  as  if  he  had  been  a  regular 
habitue.  He  was  merely  a  casual  in  this  bar,  and 
seldom  had  an  opinion  on  anything. 

**  I  should  say,  if  you'll  allow  me,"  he  struck  in, 
in  the  silence,  **  you've  got  to  be  careful.  And 
I'll  tell  you  why." 

**  Oh  I  "  Casswade  muttered,  wheeling  round  on 
his  stool.     **  What  d'you  know  about  it  ?  " 

**  I  know  a  little  bit."  The  Jonah  was  not  shy, 
and  the  general  cold  stare  did  not  deter  him  from 
outlining  an  interesting  picture  that  had  just 
occurred  to  him.  **  S'pose,  now,  you  were  to  go 
to  the  doctor's  to-morrow,  and  spread  yourself 
out  on  a  slab,  and  paid  him  money  down  for  his 
advice.  What  d'you  think  he'd  say?  He'd  say  : 
*  My  good  man,  it's  a  well-known  fact  that  a 
person  can't  put  on  that  amount  o'  flesh  outside 
without  putting  on  a  corresponding  amount  inside .' 
That's  what  he'd  say." 

**  Oh  I  "  Casswade  repeated,  uncomfortable,  but 
determined  to  get  to  the  end  of  this  theory. 
"And  what's  that  mean?" 

"Mean?"  Jonah  shrugged  in  very  decency. 
"  Have  you  ever  opened  a  goose  that's  been  fat- 


LOW    SOCIETY  31 

tened  up  for  Christmas  ?  Course,  you  have . 
Well  .   .  r 

**  Oh  I  And  you  reckon  I'm  like  that?  "  Cass- 
wade  demanded,  with  growing  thickness  of  the 
throat,  as  he  grasped  the  possibilities  implied. 
"  You  reckon,  then,  that  my  heart  and  lungs  and 
what-not  haven't  got  bare  room  to  move,  or  to 
do  their  bit,  so  to  speak?  " 

"  They  haven't  got  any  too  much,"  the  other 
hedged,  with  caution.  "I'm  not  turning  you 
inside  out,  sir — don't  think  that." 

**  But  you  are.  I  do  think  it,"  Casswade  said, 
his  face  taking  a  purple  tint.  "  Accordin'  to  you, 
I  haven't  got  another  minnit  to  live.  I'm  abso- 
lutely bunged  up.  I'm  a  walkin'  coffin.  That's 
what  you  said,  and  what  you  mean.  I'm  a  mass 
o'  fat  inside  an'  out.  I'm  on  my  last  legs  as  I  sit 
here.      I'm " 

'*  Not  at  all,"  Jonah  put  in,  pacifically.  A 
chorus  of  groans  had  been  directed  at  him.  "  I 
only  took  on  myself  to  answer  your  question  to 
this  gentleman  here.  But  you  didn't  wait  to  hear 
what  I  was  really  going  to  say " 

**  No,"  said  Casswade,  "  I  don't  want  to  hear 
it.  I  don't  like  the  look  of  you.  You  know  a 
sight  too  much.  You're  a  patent  medicine  feller, 
I  shouldn't  wonder.  If  you  went  to  a  doctor  to- 
morrer,  he'd  give  you  fourpence  to  get  a  square 
meal  with  ;  that's  what  he'd  do.  Why,  blimy,  I 
doubt  whether,  if  he  cut  you  up,  he'd  find  any 
innards   at  all.      I   doubt " 

Warming  to  it,  he  was  proceeding  to  dissect 
Jonah's  entire  anatomy  without  the  need  for  sur- 
gical apparatus,  when  someone  kicked  his  foot  to 


32  LOW    SOCIETY 

hint  that  the  bar-lady  had  been  attracted  and  was 
a  wondering  listener. 

**  I  knew  something  had  upset  Mr.  Casswade," 
she  remarked,  as  he  came  to  a  reluctant  halt. 
"  It's   that  birthday  party." 

**  Oh,  no,  it  ain't,"  Casswade  retorted.  He 
was  really  roused.  **  How  would  you  like  to  be 
told  outright  you're  too  fat  to  go  another  day, 
and  ready  to  bust  without  warnin',  and — what  was 
it  he  said?  " 

"You?  I  don't  call  you  fat,"  said  the  lady, 
with  prompt  tact.  "  I  wouldn't  give  that  much 
for  a  lath -and -plaster  man  myself.  Who  would? 
Who  says  it  ?  " 

"  What  I  meant  to  say,  was,"  Jonah  began 
again,  with  all  eyes  upon  him,  **  that  any  genuine 
doctor  would  tell  our  friend  here " 

"Your  friend?"  Casswade  got  up.  "Who's 
your   friend?     Me?  " 

" would  tell  him  to  run  round  the  houses 

three  times  a  day,  take  a  Turkish  bath  once  a 
week,  eat  less,  think  more,  and  stop  blowing  him- 
self out  with  beer."  And  with  that  parting  shot 
Jonah  swung  the  door  calmly  and  was  gone. 

No  one  spoke  ;  no  one  could.  For  perhaps  a 
minute  Mr.  Casswade  stood  breathing  very 
audibly  and  gazing  into  space.  Then,  without 
even  a  nod  to  the  company,  he  buttoned  his  coat 
over  the  offending  flesh  and  passed  out. 

Going  heavily  down  the  pavement,  he  broke 
into  a  chuckle.  He  was  sufficiently  intuitive  to 
picture,  of  a  sudden,  the  blank  disgust  in  the 
"  three -ha 'penny  "  bar. 


CHAPTER    IV 

He  had  soon  passed  the  last  of  the  shops  in 
this  direction.  A  thin  mist  from  deserted  field- 
spaces  was  prowling  about  the  roadway  now. 
When  at  length  he  drew  up,  he  was  gazing  down 
a  long  line  of  newly-built  houses,  of  the  type 
known  as  "  convenient  villas  " — a  few  occupied, 
the  majority  awaiting  purchasers,  and  some  mere 
brick -and -mortar  shells  in  various  stages  of  com- 
pletion. No  one  could  have  doubted,  as  he  moved 
with  many  pauses  down  the  unpaved  path  opposite, 
that  Mr.  Casswade  was  either  the  builder  or  the 
proprietor.  In  point  of  fact,  he  was  both — on 
paper. 

And  yet,  apparently,  he  was  not  out  for  self- 
congratulation.  There  was  a  fierce,  questioning 
fixity  in  his  face  as  he  looked  up  at  some  of  the 
blank  windows,  or  peered  through  some  of  the 
windowless  **  drawing-rooms  "  into  lone,  nebulous 
regions  of  marshland  beyond.  And  thereby  hung 
a  tale,  the  final  chapters  of  which  not  even  the 
local  prophets  could  anticipate.  There  were  many 
who  maintained  that  the  strenuous  building  and 
buying  craze  in  this  area  had  reached  the  inevit- 
able awkward  pause,  and  that  the  other  scale  had 
slowly  started  to  move  downwards.  If  it  did —  I 
Beyond  doubt,  this  latest  enterprise  upon  Mr. 
Casswade's  part  was  not  attracting  whole  crowds 

L.s.  D 


34  LOW    SOCIETY 

from  the  more  congested  districts,  spite  of  the 
absurdly  easy  terms  of  purchase  and  the  advan- 
tages of  town  and  country  combined. 

**  What  people  want  for  their  bloomin'  money 
nowadays  'ud  cripple  a  Billingsgate  Jew,"  Mr. 
Casswade  repeated  to  himself.  It  was  the  most 
effective  simile  he  could  think  of. 

He  had  reached  the  end  of  the  row,  and  was 
now  facing  the  silent,  wholly -indescribable  region 
of  field-land  that  parted  him  from  Beckton  and  the 
river.  At  this  hour,  in  this  light,  his  advertized 
description  of  the  property  as  having  quite  a  rural, 
sequestered  aspect  was  more  than  honest.  There 
was  not  a  soul  in  sight,  hardly  a  definite  sound  to 
be  heard,  and  over  all  an  uncanny,  creeping  thin 
vapour  that  had  no  connection  with  City  fogs,  but 
which  was  breathed  out  by  the  earth  itself.  A  lot 
of  people  had  complained  about  this  nightly  mist 
from  nowhere,  but  Mr.  Casswade  could  see  nothing 
deleterious  or  unpicturesque  in  it.  In  fact,  he 
said,  the  only  reason  he  didn't  live  in  one  of  the 
new  houses  himself  was  that  his  furniture  hap- 
pened to  be  too  awkward  and  old-fashioned  to 
make  any  decent  show  in  them. 

For  a  while  Mr.  Casswade  moved  ruminatively 
up  and  down  among  the  scattered  heaps  of  build- 
ing material  beyond,  now  lost  to  sight,  now  re- 
appearing— like  a  burly  gamekeeper  going  over 
his  ground  for  tracks  of  poachers.  In  the  rear 
there  was  a  parallel  row  of  sites  marked  out, 
some  of  them  with  concrete  foundations  already 
laid  and  dry  ;  but  as  to  the  advisability  of  pro- 
ceeding with  these,  Mr.  Casswade  was  generally 
held  to  be  a  little  doubtful.    It  was  getting  some- 


LOW    SOCIETY  35 

what  late  in  the  year,  and  people  were  too  lazy  or 
too  improvident  to  contemplate  "  moving,"  on 
account  of  the  weather  ahead. 

Retracing  his  steps,  he  came  to  a  portable 
wooden  hut  at  the  upper  end  of  the  road,  just  big 
enough  to  hold  two  men,  an  assortment  of  wall- 
papers, a  rough  desk,  and  a  hanging  lamp.  On 
the  outside  was  painted  :  **  The  New  Eden  Estate. 
Builder  and  Sole  Agent — M.  Casswade.  Why 
pay  rent  for  nothing?"  Someone  had  pencilled 
thickly  more  information — "  Same  old  Serpent  " 
— in  brackets  above  the  word  **  Estate  "  ;  but 
Casswade  was  neither  thin-skinned  nor  versed 
accurately  in  Biblical  symbols. 

The  hut  was  empty  and  fastened  ;  so  he  crossed 
and  knocked  at  the  house  opposite — Number  One, 
Mandalay  Gardens.     Presently  the  door  opened. 

"  Oh,  here  you  are,  then,"  Casswade  said,  as 
though  the  last  thing  he  expected  to  emerge  was 
a  man.  '*  Nothin'  doin',  I  s'pose  ?  No  one  been  ?  " 

'*  No  one.  At  least,  only  one  old  party,  since 
three  o'clock  ;  and  she  wouldn't  put  down  a  penny 
without  the  copper  was  shifted  and  two  o'  the  back 
rooms  knocked  into  one,"  the  man  informed  him. 
This  was  Casswade 's  foreman  and  deputy  agent 
on  the  "  estate,"  and  the  prevailing  opinion 
was  that  he  earned  his  salary.  An  angular, 
knotty,  somewhat  self-absorbed  and  uncommuni- 
cative man,  he  punctuated  his  words  with  little 
coughs.  **  I  told  her  it  couldn't  be  done  for  the 
money." 

"You  did?  Go  on  1 — I  wouldn't  ha*  done 
that,"  Casswade  said,  heavily  humorous.  "She 
come    in  a   motor,    didn't   she  ?      A   wonder  1      I 

D    2 


36  LOW    SOCIETY 

never  see  such  a  lot  o*  bloomin'  starvation  rats 
as  there  are  about  nowadays.  No  one  been,  eh? 
Well — "  he  spread  his  legs  and  took  out  a  cigar — 
**  What  I  want  to  know  is — What's  goin'  to  be 
done  ?    What's  goin'  to  happen  to  you  and  me  ?  " 

This  was  so  opaque  a  problem,  with  Casswade's 
fixed  glare  behind  it,  that  the  foreman  could  only 
nibble  his  moustache  and  gaze  into  space. 

"How  am  I  goin'  on?"  Cass  wade  repeated, 
with  swelling  resentment.  **  Here  I  am — can't 
lay  my  hand  on  a  bloomin'  fiver,  not  in  ready 
money.  Here's  a  matter  o'  four  thousand  in 
bricks  and  mortar  run  up,  to  say  nothin'  of  as 
much  in  ground  rents  goin'  to  seed.  And  there 
ain't  a  genuine  buyer  about — only  a  lot  of  old 
geese  that  come  and  want  a  bloomin'  Windsor 
Castle  for  twenty  pound  down.  It's  serious.  Josh, 
I  tell  you  straight.  If  you  can't  do  nothin',  how 
d'you  expect  me  to  go  on  weighin'  out  wages  like 
a  slot  machine  ?  It  can't  be  done  on  nothin'  a 
week.  I'm  down  to  bottled  beer  and  *  tuppennies,' 
as  it  is." 

**  Well,  I've  shoved  in  that  flooring  at  Number 
Thirteen,"  said  the  foreman,  as  though  the  fact 
brightened  matters.  **  Oh,  and  I  heard  to-night 
that  old  Johnson's  gone  bankrupt  and  taken  to 
drink,  with  all  them  houses  on  his  hands." 

"  Serve  him  right,"  said  Mr.  Casswade,  deci- 
sively. **  That  man  didn't  know  how  to  put  up 
a  rabbit-hutch,  let  alone  a  modern  villa.  Drunk 
half  his  time,  too — so  I've  heard.  Oh,— er — 
what  was  that  message  you  sent  down  about  the 
party  at  Number  Five — that's  what  I  wanted  to 
know.    Ain't  she  got  enough  for  her  money?  " 


LOW    SOCIETY  37 

**  Well,  now,  I'll  tell  you  just  how  it  was." 
The  foreman  pulled  himself  together  to  meet  the 
occasion.  "  She  come  down  here  and  begun  on 
something  about  a  crack  in  the  front  upstair 
ceiling.  I  sent  the  missis  out  to  say  it  was  nothing 
— it  was  only  the  place  settling  itself  down  solid. 
'  Well,*  she  says,  *  we  don't  like  the  look  of  it, 
and  my  husband  says  I'm  to  have  it  cut  out  and 
filled  in.  And  that's  not  all,'  she  says.  *  I've 
got  several  bones  to  pick  with  Mr.  Casswade,  you 
tell  him.  There's  no  varnish  left  on  the  staircase 
and  doors,  and  my  husband  wants  to  know  what 
it  means.  And  every  night  there's  a  creaking 
sound  somewhere,  and  my  husband's  fit  for 
nothing  in  the  morning,  and  you'll  have  to  find  it 
out  and  stop  it.  And  there  must  be  a  gas  escape  ; 
we  never  paid  such  bills  in  our  other  house.  And 
then  again,  what  about  that  sink?  I'm  positive 
there's  something  in  the  pipe — and  my  husband's 
got  no  time  to  go  fiddling  with  pipes.  And  how 
much  longer  are  we  to  wait  before  that  second  coat 
of  paint  he  promised '  " 

"  My  Gawd  I  "  Mr.  Casswade  breathed,  taking 
ofi"  his  hat  to  wipe  his  forehead.  *'  My  Gawd  ! 
ain't  it  enough  to  make  a  man  do  somethin'  ? 
What  else?" 

*'  Well,  she  was  here  half  an  hour,  and  she 
never  stopped  talking.  I  couldn't  remember  half 
of  it." 

"  Don't  try,"  said  Mr.  Casswade.  **  May  I 
perish  before  I  touch  another  crack  in  the  place. 
What  d'you  think  of  it,  Josh? — two  hundred  and 
fifteen  pounds  for  a  house  like  this,  with  the 
money  found  for  'em  at  five -and -half  per  cent. — 


38  LOW    SOCIETY 

and  then  they  ain't  satisfied.  Who's  her  hus- 
band ?  —  what  sort  of  a  tyke  is  he  ?  I  half 
forget." 

**  Oh,  not  much — black  bag  and  one  glove  man 
— he  lets  her  do  all  the  talking  and  walks  out  to 
the  back  when  there's  anything  on." 

"  That'll  do,"  said  Casswade.  **  Ask  him  to 
call  at  my  office  for  a  personal  interview  with  me 
and  the  Loan  Society's  lawyers.  That'll  fill  up 
the  crack.  There's  one  thing  I'm  countin'  on 
to-night — and  only  one.  That  young  Hunger - 
ford — him  with  the  dark  curly  hair  and  silk  hat 
— '11  buy  Number  Nine.  He's  got  to.  He's  been 
nibblin'  these  three  weeks  ;  and  he'll  bite." 

"Think  so?  I  haven't  seen  anything  of  him 
again." 

**  Course  not.  He  comes  Sundays.  He'll  be 
down  to-morrow  for  another  look.  That's 
what  I  was  goin'  to  say  to  you  :  don't  rush 
out.  He's  the  quiet  sort  :  you  can't  bounce 
him.  He'll  stand  here  for  hours  askin'  hisself 
whether  he  can  run  to  it.  He'll  bite  !  He  dunno  I 
know,  but  he  brought  the  girl  down  one  night  in 
the  week.  You  didn't  see  'em.  They  stood  just 
down  there,  in  the  dark.  They  ain't  quite  married 
yet,  by  the  look  of  it.  He  was  whisperin',  and  look- 
ing down  at  her.  I  bobbed  down,  as  they  went  by 
the  box — I  don't  want  to  scare  'em.  Decent - 
lookin'  little  woman — one  o'  them  with  the  dancey 
eyes — you  know — don't  say  much,  but  devils  for 
thinkin'.  He'll  have  Number  Nine.  Jest  shove  up 
*  Cosy  Corner  '  over  the  fanlight.  Well,  I'm  off. 
I've  got  a  likely  party  to  see — if  I  can  catch  him. 
Oh  I  "      He    turned  his   big    body   at    the    gate. 


LOW    SOCIETY  39 

"  There's  all  that  fresh  timber  and  stuff,  mind, 
lyin'  down  there.  Keep  your  ear  cocked."  He 
lowered  his  voice.  "  I  mean,  I  couldn't  see  him 
anywhere  about." 

**  Oh,  he^s  there,  somewhere,"  replied  the  fore- 
man, in  the  same  bated  way.  **  He  don't  move 
away  much  before  midnight  now — if  then." 

"  That's  all  right,  then.  Let  him  be.  I  reckon 
he's  worth  ten  bob  a  week  to  me — to  you,  I  mean. 
G'night.  A  fine  day  to-morrow  ought  to  fetch  'em 
out.      If   it   don't !  " 

An  electric  car — a  beautiful  sight,  as  it  glided 
suddenly  out  of  the  darkness  like  a  stately,  fairy, 
jewelled  ship  at  sea — was  just  rounding  the  bend, 
bound  for  Barking  Town  High  Street.  It  was  very 
seldom  that  Mr.  Casswade  made  use  of  a  car,  as 
they  did  not  pause  long  enough  for  him  to  mount 
the  stair  to  the  top  in  comfort,  and  he  disliked  the 
stony,  inquisitive  stare  which  all  inside  passengers 
assume  ;  but  he  decided  to  have  a  halfpennyworth. 
He  got  in.  There  was  one  vacant  space  between 
two  ladies,  which  they  hastily  widened  at  sight  of 
him.  As  it  was,  the  car  timed  its  jerk  to  a  nicety, 
and  Mr.  Casswade's  two-and-half  hundredweight 
of  flesh  landed  heavily,  nipping  a  portion  of  the 
left-hand  lady. 

"  Oh  1  "  she  said,  biting  her  lip  with  some 
reason.     "  Thank  you  very  much.    .    .    ." 

*'  Don't  mention  it,"  Casswade  said,  glaring 
back  at  her.  He  quite  failed  to  grasp  what  service 
he  had  rendered.  *'  Nice  evenin',  if  it  wasn't  for 
the  mist  about." 

"  And — and  the  tact  of  some  animals,"  she 
added,  with  a  trembling  gasp,  looking  away. 


40  LOW    SOCIETY 

**  That's  right  enough,"  he  said,  uncertainly. 
As  she  made  no  attempt  to  explain  her  reference, 
and  got  more  and  more  pallid  and  tight-lipped, 
he  set  her  down  as  some  party  given  to  excessive 
tea -drinking. 

It  was  close  upon  eleven  o'clock  when  he 
released  her  and  stepped  off  the  car.  The  narrow- 
ness of  the  time -margin  induced  him  to  have  one 
more  drink.  Then,  with  the  public -houses  closed, 
most  of  the  shops  following  suit,  and  that  great 
wavering  glow  over  London's  heart  becoming 
more  and  more  distinct,  it  might  be  said  that  for 
Barking  Town  one  more  Saturday  had  practically 
come  to  a  close,  Mr.  Casswade,  however,  was 
not  thinking  of  bed  yet.  He  wiped  his  lips  and 
set  out  a  second  time  in  the  direction  of  Tamplin 
Street. 

He  found  it  quiet  and  featureless  now — save  at 
Mr.  Shadd's  premises,  near  which  he  paused. 
The  shutters  were  up,  but  muffled  gusts  of  sound 
from  beyond  them  betokened  that  Selina's  birth- 
day was  to  run  its  fair  course  by  the  clock.  In 
fact,  Casswade  reflected,  there  was  no  knowing 
when  an  affair  of  that  kind  would  end — till  he 
called  to  mind  that  both  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Shadd 
leaned  to  rigid  economy  as  regarded  gas  con- 
sumption. This  decided  him.  One  comfortable 
fact  was,  that  the  upper  end  of  Tamplin  Street 
had  no  outlet  worth  mentioning. 

He  paced  up  and  down  at  the  lower  end.  From 
time  to  time  Shadd's  door  let  out  a  weak  sword 
of  light,  and  chattering  young  couples  carrying 
music  came  noisily  down  the  street  ;  but  Selina's 
young  man  was  evidently  a  stayer.      It  was  just 


LOW    SOCIETY  41 

upon  midnight  when,  as  Mr.  Casswade  gasped  at 
the  thought  that  the  young  man  might  have  been 
accommodated  with  a  shake -down  in  the  shop,  and 
might  now  be  getting  into  it,  the  weak  sword  of 
light  appeared  again.  Someone  stepped  out  and 
came  along  the  pavement,  his  feet  drawing  a  dull 
ring  in  the  comparative  silence.     It  was  George. 

**  Eh,  what — hullo  I  "  said  Mr.  Casswade.  They 
had  butted   into   each   other    coincidently  at   the 

corner.     **  Good  gracious  !  it's  you,  is  it,  Mr. 

I  didn't  quite  catch  the  name?  " 

**  Baversham's  my  name,"  replied  the  young 
man,  rather  straightly.  Mr.  Casswade,  besides 
smelling  powerfully  of  mixed  liquors,  was  no  trifle 
in  a  collision  of  the  sort.  '*  I  didn't  think  you 
wanted  to  catch  it." 

**  Ah,  Baversham— that's  it."  He  fell  into  step 
as  carelessly  as  he  could.  "Just  off  home,  eh? 
Why,  wasn't  they  tellin'  me  you  come  all  the  way 
from  Beckton?  That's  a  middlin'  step  this  time  o' 
night,  ain't  it  ?  " 

"  It  would  be  to  you,  I  expect."  Selina's 
young  man  halted  abruptly.  "  Which  way  are 
you  goin' ?  "  he  enquired. 

**  Well— er — I  dunno— this  way  1  " 

"Well,  I'm  goin'  this.     Good-night." 

'*  Right  you  are,"  Casswade  said,  cheerfully. 
**  I'll  come  a  bit  o'  the  way  with  you— only  I 
ain't  the  bloomin'  fire-engine  I  was  once,  of 
course.  Beckton,  eh?  Like  the  night  air 
there  ?  " 

**  I  can't  say."  Baversham  had  slackened  just 
a  little — very  little  ;  and  the  roll  of  his  com- 
panion's body  at  the  pace  was  anything  but  pic- 


42  LOW    SOCIETY 

turesque.  **  rm  only  goin'  halfway,  where  my 
lodgin'  happens  to  be.  You're  late,  ain't 
you?" 

'*  Bit  of  a  night-bird,"  Casswade  admitted. 
"  Not  bein'  married,  y'see,  and  all  that  sort  o* 
thing.  Ah,  by  the  bye,  won't  be  so  long  before 
you're  wantin'  somethin'  decent  and  substantial 
yourself  to  take  the  girl  to,  eh  ?  " 

"  It'll  be  decent,  anyhow,"  replied  the  young 
man,  with  emphasis.  "  I  don't  warrant  anythin' 
else  without  seein'  it  and  livin'  in  it." 

*'  It'll  be,  I  trust,"  Casswade  said,  in  his  deepest 
pulpit  tone,  "  somethin'  to  fit  the  holy  state  o' 
matrimony,  and  worthy  o'  my  friend  Shadd's  one 
and  only  daughter.  And,  as  you've  touched  on 
the  point,  if  you  haven't  fixed  as  yet  on  the  right 
place,  in  the  handiest  part,  with  the  lovely  country 
at  the  back  and  the  City  in  front,  well,  you  might 
have  done  worse  than  run  up  against  me  jest  now. 
Mind,  so  to  speak,  I  mean.  Ten  pound  down — 
another  twenty-five  when  you  sign  the  deeds — and 
you're  a  made  man  for  life." 

'*  How*s  that?"  asked  Selina's  young  man, 
pricked  in  spite  of  himself. 

'*  How's  that?    Ask  yourself,  Mr. I  didn't 

quite  catch  the  name? — ah,  that's  it,  Baversham. 
Now,  put  it  to  yourself.  Here's  you,  a  young 
feller  out  o'  the  ordinary  altogether,  with  a 
woman  that  thinks  the  world  o'  you,  and  your 
future  right  in  front  o'  you.     Isn't  that  so  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  see  that  much,"  he  agreed,  dubiously. 
**  But  don't  let  me  take  you  out  o'  your  way." 

"  Well,  there  you  are,  plain  as  a  pikestafT — 
don't  walk  quite  so  fast,  mister  I     In  them  words 


LOW    SOCIETY  43 

IVe  given  you  the  tip — the  Derby  o'  Life,  so  to 
speak.    You've  got  it." 

Selina's  young  man  sniffed.  **  Blowed  if  I 
can  see  it,"  he  said.  "  Got  what  ?  Are  you  givin* 
me  advice  about  marriage,  or  what  ?  " 

"I'm  tellin'  you,"  Casswade  said,  his  solemnity 
deepening,  **  how  I  started  to  make  my  money. 
Bricks  and  mortar,  sir  I  Look  at  me.  I  began 
with  nothin' — naked  to  the  wide  world,  you  might 
say.     I  got  one  house  ;  in  ten  years  I'd  got  fifty." 

"I'd  like  to  know  how  you  did  it,"  Baversham 
said,  even  now  unconvinced.  '*  You  couldn't  have 
gone  to  the  same  school  as  I  did." 

"  Me  ?  I  never  went  to  no  school.  My  old  man 
didn't  believe  in  'em,  and  hopped  about  from 
neighbourhood  to  neighbourhood." 

"Did  he  have  to?" 

"  And  that,  sir,  is  how  I  picked  up  my  little 
bit." 

**  My  word  I  "  George  stopped  suddenly  dead. 
"  Why,  then,  you're  the  rollin'  stone  that  did 
gather  some  moss  1  " 

It  did  not  appeal  to  Mr.  Casswade.  Besides, 
they  were  getting  out  farther  and  farther  towards 
the  dark  field-land — Beckton  field-land,  above 
all.  He  had  no  fancy  for  a  glimpse  of  the  gas- 
works and  dockyards  at  this  hour. 

"  No  larks,"  he  said,  shortly.  "  Where  are 
we  ?  The  point  is,  you're  a  man  with  fifty  pounds 
put  by — or,  it  may  be,  a  hundred.  And  you  want 
to  turn  it  into  a  thousand.     Is  that  so,  or  not  ?  " 

"  It  is  so,"  George  admitted,  serious  enough 
now. 

'*  Right  !      Then   that   brings   us   bang   to   the 


44  LOW    SOCIETY 

bricks  and  mortar.  You  can't  beat  it  ;  it  turns  to 
gold  in  your  hands.  Look  at  me.  I  maintain 
that  any  man " 

*'  Wait  a  bit,"  said  George.  "  P'raps  I  know 
what  you're  drivin'  at.  You're  advisin'  me  to  buy 
houses,  and  build  houses,  and  sell  houses,  same  as 
you've  done.  And  you've  one  or  two  of  your 
own  that  would  suit  me  for  a  start.     But " 

"And  why?"  Casswade  put  in,  profoundly. 
*'  You  must  begin,  or  you  can't  go  on.  And  if 
you  do  it,  it's  done.  That's  the  key  to  bis'ness, 
ain't  it?  If  you've  got  the  money,  plank  it  down. 
In  a  few  years,  you'll  come  and  you'll  say  : 
'  Thankee,  Casswade  !  Here's  Selina  and  me  in 
a  motor-car  at  the  door.'  " 

"Think  so?  Then  what's  all  this  I've  heard 
about  it's  bein'  a  risky  game,  and  done  to  death 
in  these  parts  ?  And  why  should  I  have  to  start 
in  one  o'  your  houses  ?  " 

"To  be  on  the  spot.  Now  d'you  see?  It's 
jest  as  it  happens,  by  luck,  so  to  speak.  In  them 
streets  o'  villas,  on  the  New  Eden  Estate,  they're 
bein'  snapped  up  like  wildfire.  Leave  it  too  long, 
and  you  won't  get  a  look  in.  But  there'll  be  some 
later  on,  only  known  to  the  man  who's  on  the 
spot.  That's  between  you  and  me,  quite  private. 
And   then.    .    .    ." 

He  contained  himself  till  Baversham  looked 
round,  and  then  gave  a  pregnant  wink,  accom- 
panied— accidentally — by  a  little  lurch  of  his 
body.  Never  until  to-night  had  Selina's  young 
man  deemed  himself  so  lacking  in  acumen. 

"  D'you  mean  you  want  a  partner  in  the  bis'- 
ness ?  "  he  hazarded,  at  a  reckless  plunge. 


LOW    SOCIETY  45 

**  Not  me.  I'm  not  havin'  any — bed-partners 
or  otherwise — young  feller.  I'm  only  thinkin'  o' 
you  and  Selina.  I'm  jest  tellin'  you  how  it's  to 
be  done.  You  stroll  up  to  my  office,  any  day 
you  like,  and  put  down  your  ten  pound  deposit, 
and  you'll  soon  know  what's  what.  Mind,  I  don't 
give  it  away  to  everyone  on  two  legs.  Why — " 
— he  dropped  into  sudden  husky  mysteriousness — 
**  you  don't  reckon  I  made  my  bit  out  o'  jest  the 
difference  between  buildin'  and  sellin'  'em,  do 
you  ?  Why,  that  'ud  be  workin'  for  a  bloomin' 
livin'." 

**  Go  on,"  said  George  softly,  as  if  he  began  to 
feel  fascinated  at  last. 

**  Well,  there  you  are  !  If  you're  thinkin'  to 
make  a  start,  you  run  up  to  the  estate  office  to- 
morrow and  ask  for  Mr.  Casswade.  And  you 
needn't  bring  your  young  woman  first  go-off, 
'cause  women  only  think  about  wall-papers  and 
curtain-rods,  and  ain't  in  the  bis'ness  at  all  to 
get  cent,  per  cent,  for  their  money.     See?  " 

**  Cent,  per  cent.,  eh  ?  "  the  other  repeated,  more 
thoughtfully  still.  They  went  a  little  farther, 
and  then  he  said  :  **  P'raps  I  will.  What's  the 
special  tip  you  spoke  of?  " 

Casswade  looked  all  round,  and  whispered — so 
closely  that  Baversham  could  almost  get  the  taste 
of  the  mixed  liquors  for  nothing. 

**  You've  got  your  house.  You're  on  the  spot, 
with  your  eyes  and  ears  open.  Out  of  every  six 
of  them  houses,  there'll  be  one  or  two  parties  that 
can't  keep  up  their  payments — whether  it's  to 
me,  or  to  the  Loan  Society.  Young  couples — 
the  kid  comes — another  kid  comes — or  the   man 


46  LOW    SOCIETY 

goes  and  throws  hisself  out  o'  work.  Some  of 
'em  ain't  got  a  ha'penny  piece  to  fly  with,  bar 
the  deposit  they've  borrowed — very  likely  off  me. 
They're  done.  No  one  '11  take  the  house  off  their 
hands  or  see  'em  through — 'taint  likely.  It's 
their  luck — they  will  get  married  and  tied  up  in  a 
bloomin'  knot  !  Then — in  you  step,  casual  like. 
You  make  'em  a  cash  offer.  If  they've  paid 
ninety  off  the  mortgage,  you'll  give  'em  thirty 
down  and  chance  your  luck.  They  grab  at  it — 
that  sort  always  do.  Out  they  go.  The  house  is 
your'n,  to  let  or  sell  again  at  your  own  figure. 
It's   done." 

Casswade  mopped  his  forehead  after  the  sus- 
tained effort.     He  was  almost  hoarse. 

**  I  see,"  Baversham  whispered  back.  They  had 
come  to  a  mutual  pause  in  the  middle  of  the  dark 
roadway.  Only  here  and  there  in  the  gloom  all 
around  showed  the  twinkle  of  a  house  lamp.  **  So 
that's  how  you  made  your  money." 

**  Not  all  of  it,"  he  corrected,  carelessly.  **  But 
a  good  part  of  it.  I  reckon,  at  one  time,  I  got  a 
dozen  houses  at  a  hundred  apiece.  The  cash 
down  does  it.  Course,  between  ourselves,  I  done 
it  through  agents.  Wouldn't  do  for  me  myself  to 
sell  'em  a  house  and  then  buy  it  back  at  half-price 
— although  I've  done  that  twice  over  before  now." 

**  I  see.  Yes,  that's  a  very  good  game,"  Selina's 
young  man  agreed,  gazing  into  space  towards 
Beckton.  **  I  can  understand  it  takes  a  smartish 
man  to  get  'em  to  buy  some  o'  these  houses  in  the 
first   place." 

"  Smart  1  My  word,  you've  got  to  be  a  spider 
waitin'  for  flies.     But  they  rush  in — some  of  'em. 


LOW    SOCIETY  47 

Others  go  slow,  and  reckon  they're  very  clever. 
Why,"  he  confided,  with  another  look  round, 
**  There's  a  young  feller  on  my  books  now.  He'll 
bite  !  The  advertisement  done  it.  He's  brought 
the  girl  already  to  look — you  can  always  tell  by 
that.  They  ain't  quite  married  yet.  I've  sized 
'em  up.  Very  likely  he's  took  it  into  his  head  all 
of  a  sudden  he  wants  her — or  p'raps  he's  been 
years  savin'  up  enough  to  do  the  bis'ness.  Talk 
about  fools  I  There  won't  be  a  ha'penny  margin, 
he'll  find,  when  he's  paid  all  the  lawyer's  fees, 
and  deposit,  and  what  not.  But  they  sign  like  a 
bloomin'  cricket  chirpin'.  It's  the  big  idea  what 
fetches  'em — your  own  villa,  with  the  hope  o' 
lettin'  part  to  lodgers.  Lodgers  out  here,  mind 
you  !  "  He  nudged  and  chuckled  huskily.  He 
had  seldom  felt  so  encouraged  to  confidence. 
"  Course,  I  can't  help  it  if  they  happen  to  come  a 
cropper,  can  I?     He'll  be  there,  you'll  see." 

"What's  his  name?"  Baversham  asked, 
absently. 

"Name?  Why— er— Hungerford.  Yes,  that's 
it." 

**  Where  might  he  live?  " 

"Live?      Oh — er — somewhere    or    other." 

"  I'll  find  out.  I'll  drop  him  a  line."  Selina's 
young  man  came  to  himself,  took  a  step  or  two, 
and  half  turned.  "  Good-night  !  Know  your 
way? — bend  to  the  left  and  follow  the  tram-line 
for  about  two  miles.  I'll  drop  him  a  line.  I'll 
get  Selina  to  write  it.  I'll  let  him  know,  and  all 
Barking  know,  he's  in  the  hands  of  a  dirty  fraud — 
a  jerry -builder — a  man  who'd  sell  his  own  mother 
for  ninepence  and  a  drink  1  " 


CHAPTER    V 

Mr.  Casswade  passed  an  unsatisfactory  night, 
with  savage  spells  of  wakefulness .  He  had  dreams 
in  plenty,  but  all  of  an  unpleasantly  dramatic 
character — particularly  one  in  which  he  saw  him- 
self stripped  and  made  to  enter  an  arena  against 
Bogie  Lawrence,  with  Hungerford  and  Selina's 
young  man  as  referees.  It  was  fully  an  hour 
earlier  than  usual  when  he  leaned  out  from  the 
bed-curtains  to  thump  his  bell.  He  had  no  modern 
fastidious  notions  of  a  bath,  or  even  a  wash, 
prior  to  breakfast. 

Five  minutes  of  brooding,  perhaps,  and  then  a 
discreet  tap.  Miss  Pugh,  the  **  maid  " — a  lady 
of  unascertained  age — entered,  bearing  a  tray  upon 
which  were  biscuits  and  a  cup  of  tea  with  **  a  little 
something  in  it."  She  slipped  it  with  elaborate 
circumspection  in  between  the  curtains,  and  then 
stood  back,  smoothing  her  hands.  Apart  from  a 
woman  who  attended  daily  to  perform  the  hardest 
work.  Miss  Pugh  and  himself  comprised  the  entire 
Casswade  household.  And,  as  if  this  were  not 
small  enough,  there  was  an  uncharitable  convic- 
tion abroad  that  Miss  Pugh  had  no  belief  in  two 
persons  remaining  twain  when  they  could  become 
**one."  Undoubtedly  she  had  a  personal  griev- 
ance, many  of  the  tradesmen  and  all  the  small  boys 
persisting  obstinately  in  calling  her  "   Miss  Pug." 


LOW    SOCIETY  49 

"  I  wasn't  quite  sure  whether  you  rang,"  she 
observed,  touching  the  curtain  fringe.  **  But  I 
thought  I  couldn't  be  mistaken." 

"  Never  mind  about  that,"  came  his  voice  from 
beyond  them.  "  It's  hot  and  strong  for  once — 
that's  somethin'.     Any  letters?" 

"  Oh,  hardly.  The  postman's  always  a  little 
later  on  Sundays,  isn't  he,  now?  " 

**  How  do  I  know  ?  No  right  to  be,"  he  growled. 
And  Miss  Pugh  smiled  to  herself  indulgently. 
Morning  irritability  is  only  provoking  in  un- 
interesting persons — in  one's  own  husband,  for 
instance.  "  What  sort  o'  day  is  it?  Snowin',  or 
snivellin',  or  what  ?  " 

*'  Lovely  1  Lovely  1  "  She  skipped  to  the  window 
and  drew  up  one  blind,  for  him  to  see  through  the 
chinks.  Through  the  thin  mist  beyond  there  was 
a  most  promising  amber  outlook.  **  I  shouldn't 
be  surprised  if  you  have  your  hands  full  of  business 
to-day.  You'll  certainly  wear  your  silk  hat  and 
frock  coat." 

"  Very  well,  get  'em  out  and  brush  'em,"  he 
said,  somewhat  mollified.     *'  That'll   do." 

She  had  seemed  disposed,  with  the  protective 
feminine  instinct,  to  linger  and  ask  after  his 
health  ;  but  Mr.  Casswade  would  have  none  of 
that.  He  made  one  definite  movement,  and  the 
door  closed  hurriedly  behind  her.  In  fact,  if  the 
heart  theory  of  the  neighbours  had  a  basis,  Miss 
Pugh  was  keeping  her  hopes  alive  on  very  meagre 
nourishment . 

About  ten  o'clock,  as  she  stood  smiling  and 
smoothing  her  hands  in  the  doorway,  Mr.  Cass- 
wade   sallied    forth,    a    little    hectic    after    her 

L.S.  E 


50  LOW    SOCIETY 

strenuous  efforts  to  make  his  buttonhole  flower 
**  set  "  rightly.  The  sun  was  shining  with  a  fervour 
that  made  even  Barking  Town  look  white  and 
bright,  and  Mr.  Casswade  himself,  with  his  cigar, 
polished  hat  and  tight  coat,  had  outwardly  all  the 
appearance  of  a  company  promoter  going  to  con- 
gratulate a  board  of  directors  upon  a  successful 
flotation  at  the  public's  expense.  Inwardly,  he 
had  three  separate  sources  of  uneasiness. 

There  was  the  fact  of  the  serious  scarcity  of 
ready  money  to  carry  on  his  projects,  and  on  top 
of  that  the  sudden  sinister,  astounding  menace  in 
the  person  of  Selina  Shadd's  young  man.  Last, 
but  by  no  means  least,  he  could  not  shake  off  that 
idea  of  a  solid  layer  of  fat  slowly,  insidiously, 
enclosing  and  strangling  his  internal  organism. 
It  had  sounded  too  disinterested  and  realistic  to 
be  scouted  ;  the  process  might  be  advancing  by 
another  stage  even  as  he  walked  the  pavement. 
As  he  went,  he  was  considering  some  heroic  idea 
of  a  revised  diet  for  which  no  one  need  guess  the 
motive.  The  difficulty  was,  to  know  where  to 
begin.  Lately  he  had  been  balancing  a  distaste 
for  solids  by  an  access  of  liquid  sustenance  ;  and 
it  appeared  on  the  surface  that  he  might  as  well 
die  slowly  of  strangulating  fat  as  acquire  a  dis- 
taste for  liquids,  too. 

The  New  Eden  Estate,  of  course,  lay  to  the  left  ; 
but  for  some  reason  of  his  own  he  turned  first  of  all 
in  the  other  direction.  Early  as  it  was,  the  Bark- 
ing Town  Sunday  morning  parade  was  in  full 
swing.  All  down  the  lengthy  High  Street,  and 
along  each  main  branch  thoroughfare,  groups 
of  men,  mostly  in  tweed  caps  worn  low,  and  with 


LOW    SOCIETY  51 

hands  deep  in  trousers'  pockets  cut  frontally, 
moved  at  a  saunter  in  the  centre  of  the  roadway, 
apparently  bent  upon  eventually  compelling  the 
electric  cars  to  take  to  the  pavement.  There  was 
shouting  and  laughter  and  ogling  of  women — there 
being  nothing  else  to  occupy  the  mind  until  the 
blessed  hour  of  half -past  twelve.  And  through 
this  slow -shifting  kaleidoscope  came  Mr.  Matt 
Casswade,  his  glossy,  imposing,  half -suffocated 
appearance  attracting  full  attention.  It  was  only 
the  bolder  spirits  who  cared  to  hail  him  with  a 
**  Mornin',  Matt  1  "  on  Sunday.  For  the  rest  of 
the  week,  Mr.  Casswade  was  as  contemptuous  of 
conventionality  as  anyone  in  Barking. 

The  church  bells  had  begun  to  clash  out  as  he 
passed  the  end  of  Tamplin  Street.  He  was  in 
luck.  Coming  sharply  down  that  street  was  the 
very  person  of  whom  he  had  hoped  to  catch  sight 
without  the  presence  of  prying  females — Mr. 
Shadd,  carrying  a  small  book,  and  looking  like  a 
needy  undertaker  in  his  own  shrunken  frock-coat. 
Mr.  Shadd  had  been  married  in  this  same  gar- 
ment, but  nothing  could  persuade  him  that  a 
frock-coat  could  ever  grow  threadbare  ;  it  seemed 
monstrous  to  him. 

"How  do?"  asked  Mr.  Casswade,  rolling  his 
cigar  carelessly.  "  Where  might  you  be  off 
to?" 

"  Well,  I  never  !  "  Flustered  and  pleased,  Mr. 
Shadd  slipped  the  small  book  hastily  into  his  tail- 
pocket,  and  wrung  the  other's  hand  till  it  was 
bluntly  withdrawn.  He  had  been  ruefully  con- 
vinced that  asking  Mr.  Casswade  to  the  birthday 
party  had   been   a    tactical    error   beyond    repair. 

E   2 


52  LOW    SOCIETY 

"  Fancy  meeting  you  like  this  I  Well — er — I  don't 
know  that  I  was  going  anywhere  in  particular." 

"  Glad  o*  that,"  said  Casswade,  fixing  him 
with  a  cold,  fishy  eye.  "  Looked  very  much  to  me 
as  if  you  was  goin'  to  church,  and  tryin'  not  to 
run." 

**  The  idea,"  Mr.  Shadd  laughed.  '*  Let's  stroll 
on.     How  are  you?  " 

"How  am  I?"  He  pulled  out  a  cigar-case. 
'*  Have  a  smoke,  and  don't  be  silly." 

Mr.  Shadd  coughed,  not  caring  to  refuse  on  the 
ground  that  it  would  choke  him.     They  walked  on. 

"  I've  often  wondered,  though,"  Shadd  re- 
marked, "  you  don't  rent  a  pew  somewhere.  It 
'ud  mean  a  flow  of  business." 

"I'd  sooner  rent  a  pub,"  was  the  heavy  reply. 
"  If  there's  one  thing  I'm  not,  and  only  one,  it's 
a  bloomin'  singin'  hypocrite,"  he  added,  vaguely. 
**  Come  up  and  have  a  look  at  my  houses,  and  see 
what  you  think  of  'em — unless  you're  a  deacon - 
bloke  somewhere."     He  paused  suspiciously. 

••  The  idea,"  Mr.  Shadd  repeated.  "  Do  I  look 
like  it?" 

'*  Well,  if  I  was  asked,  I  should  say  you  do," 
Mr.  Casswade  said,  looking  him  up  and  down. 
"  What  I  call  a  sort  o'  black-beetle  look.  Come 
on,  then  !  Yes,  I  half  thought  I  might  run  across 
you,  and  yet  I  didn't  want  to  particular,  if  you 
understand  me." 

It  was  not  too  luminous,  but  Mr.  Shadd  pricked 
up  his  ears.     "  Oh  I  "  he  said,  with  interest. 

"  'Course  if  you  don't  care,  as  her  father,  it 
don't  matter  a  ha'penny  rap  to  me,  does  it  ?  " 

**  Certainly  not,"    Mr.   Shadd   agreed,    stoutly. 


LOW    SOCIETY  53 

**  Decidedly — er — I  mean,  of  course  I  am  her 
father." 

**  That*s  what  I  thought."  Casswade  spat  out 
and  squared  his  shoulders,  as  one  impelled  by 
duty  and  friendship  to  a  disagreeable  task. 
**  Then,  I'd  see  him  buried  before  I'd  let  him  touch 
any  daughter  o'  mine.     That's  all." 

**  Do  you  mean  it?  "  breathed  the  startled  Mr. 
Shadd.     **  Really?" 

**  Mean  it?  I'd  go  farther.  I  wouldn't  let  him 
touch  her  with  a  pair  o'  tongs,  or  use  the  penny 
post  to  her.  And  that's  sayin'  somethin',  after 
the  cuddlin'  and  whatnot  I  see  between  'em  last 
night.  I  couldn't  sleep,  merely  thinkin'  of  it  ; 
and  it  takes  a  lot  to  keep  me  awake  on  Saturday 
night,  as  you  know." 

Mr.  Shadd  did  not  know,  but  he  could  believe 
it.     He  drew  a  long,  shaky  breath. 

"  Well,  I'm  in  a  nice  position,"  he  said. 
**  You've  put  me  in  a  pickle,  and  no  mistake. 
What  can  I  do?" 

**  I  shouldn't  do  anythin*,  my  dear  feller.  I 
should  simply  order  him  out  o'  the  place  without 
listenin'  to  a  pack  o'  lies,  and  keep  him  out.  And 
there  you  are." 

"But — what's  he  done?  He  might  ask  that. 
What  have  you  heard  ?  I  don't  know  much  of  him 
yet,  but  I  understood  from  Selina  he  was  a  most 
steady  young  man." 

**  Oh,  is  he?  Look  here  I  "  Mr.  Casswade 
paused,  grasped  his  shoulder,  and  whispered 
tensely.  **  And  it  ain't  the  first  time,  nor  the 
hundredth,  or  I  wouldn't  speak  of  it,"  he  finished, 
aloud.     **  And  you  needn't  take  my  word  for  it, 


54  LOW    SOCIETY 

or  mention  me  at  all  ;  because  it's  known  from  here 
to  Beckton  and  back  again.  And  as  for  that  tale 
about  him  havin'  money — well,  heaven  help  your 
daughter.      I   should  want   to    know.'' 

'*  I  do,"  asserted  Mr.  Shadd,  rather  faintly. 
**  I've  seen  his  bank-book." 

**  Oh  I  "  For  an  instant  Mr.  Casswade  was 
nonplussed.  Then  he  brightened.  **  Did  you  see 
the  inside  of  it  ?  " 

"  Well,  no— not  really— I  didn't  !  " 

"There  you  are,  then!  See  the  trickery? — 
like  a  woman  jest  showin'  the  edge  of  her  under- 
flounce.  I  knew  it.  My  dear  feller,  I  knew  it, 
and  couldn't  bring  myself  to  speak.  And  you  tell 
me  that  you're  havin'  a  man  like  that  in  to  supper, 
poisonin'  the  air  and  your  daughter's  mind,  and 
havin'  the  shop  talked  about  from  here  to  Beckton 
and  back  ?  Do  you  think  he's  goin'  to  marry  her 
— a  man  that  ain't  slept  at  home  for  months,  per- 
haps years?  I — I'd  write  and  dare  him  this  night 
ever  to  come  near  the  place  again." 

**  It's  too  late,"  Mr.  Shadd  said,  desperately, 
after  the  pause.  **  Whether  it's  true  or  not,  it's 
too  late." 

*' Why?" 

**  Because  she's  mad  on  him.  The  minute  I 
dared  hint  at  it,  she'd  walk  out  of  the  place  to 
tell  him,  and  never  come  back.  She's  like  her 
mother  was.  She'd  have  him  if  he'd  got  cloven 
hoofs  and  a  tail.     I  know  it." 

For  a  time,  as  they  walked,  Mr.  Casswade 
pulled  and  sucked  at  a  cigar  that  was  gone  out. 
The  warning  had  utterly  failed  in  its  main  effect. 
As    his    brain    worked    laboriously    in    any    but 


LOW    SOCIETY  55 

business  matters,  it  required  time  to  think  of  some- 
thing that  should  give  the  position  a  right-about 
twist  in  a  natural  manner.     But  he  found  it. 

"  P'raps  you're  right,"  he  said,  impressively. 
'*  In  fact,  I  was  half  hopin*,  for  the  girl's  sake, 
that  that's  how  you'd  be  able  to  take  it.  There's 
no  earthly  way  o'  findin'  out  the  truth  about  him  ; 
and  if  you  did,  he'd  only  turn  round  and  say  you'd 
been  the  same  yourself  in  your  young  days,  like 
most  of  us." 

**  I  don't  think   I   was,"    Mr.   Shadd  ventured, 

warmly.      **  In    fact,    I "      The    cigar    waved 

him  aside  pooh-poohingly. 

"  That's  what  we  all  say,  afterwards  ;  that's 
only  natural.  But  what  I  mean  is,  how  do  we 
know  it's  not  all  been  put  about  purposely  by 
some  other  feller  that  wants  her  ?  Has  she  ever 
had  another  man  after  her? — that's  the  question." 

**  Several,  I  believe,"  admitted  Mr.  Shadd. 
**  Why,  that  young  Sanders " 

**  Blow  young  Sanders.  There  you  are,  then. 
That  explains  it  all.  And  I  don't  mind  tellin'  you, 
I'm  thunderin'  glad  for  her  sake.  Because — well, 
you  needn't  go  mentionin'  it  to  him  or  her  yet,  but 
if  things  go  on  all  right — if  they  do,  mind  you — 
she'll  most  likely  have  a  little  cheque  signed 
*  M.  Casswade  '  on  her  weddin'  day.  In  fact,  I'll 
see  she  does.     That's  me." 

"  You'll  have  to  come,"  said  Mr.  Shadd,  swal- 
lowing his  emotion.  **  I  wouldn't  have  said  so, 
but  I  was  only  hoping  things  might  turn  out  so 
that  he'd  ask  you  to  be  his  *  best  man.'  " 

"Me?"  Casswade  blew  his  nose  violently. 
"  No,  no,  nothin'  o'  the  kind.     Don't  you  breathe 


56  LOW    SOCIETY 

anythin*  o'  that.  Oh,  no  !  .  .  .  Wait  a  minute 
— I've  forgot  my  clean  handkerchief." 

They  were  passing  his  residence.  He  went  in, 
gulped  down  two  helpings  of  something  from  a 
decanter,  let  off  two  or  three  curses,  and  came  out 
blowing  his  nose  again.  Miss  Pugh  reached  the 
foot  of  the  staircase  a  shade  too  late. 

**  If  it*s  not  a  rude  question,"  said  Mr.  Shadd, 
as  they  went  on  again,  **  Your  house  must  have 
cost  you  something  to  buy  and  fit  up?  " 

**  Four  hundred  odd,  for  a  start.  Build  it 
myself,"  he  replied,  offhand.  "  You  couldn't  buy 
it  for  six  hundred  o'  the  best.     Real  stuff  in  it." 

**  I  thought  so."  Mr.  Shadd  was  impressed, 
and  mentally  lifted  the  face -value  of  the  wedding- 
day  cheque  from  ten  to  twenty  pounds.  He 
coughed.  "  Then,  if  it's  not  another  rude  ques- 
tion, how  can  you  afford  to  sell  your  new  houses 
up  here  at  such  a  figure  ?  You  must  be  losing 
money." 

"I'm  givin'  'em  away  ;  that's  the  explanation. 
It's  my  hobby.    And  if  your  Selina  was  to  snap  one 

up "      He   stopped,   to   use    the   handkerchief 

again.  He  thought  he  had  better  not  refer  to 
that  subject.  "  Jest  reminds  me — I  think  Josh 
sold  the  very  last  one  yesterday.     Yes,  he  did  !  " 

**  My  word  !  "  said  Mr.  Shadd,  thinking  in 
thousands  now.  **  Why,  someone  was  telling  me 
there  were  forty  of  'em,  and  a  new  row  just 
started  behind.  I  must  tell  Mrs.  Shadd.  All 
sold  !  " 

Casswade  suddenly  came  to  a  halt.  Things 
were  getting  too  intimate  and  complicated  for  his 
liking. 


LOW    SOCIETY  57 

**  I  clean  forgot,"  he  said.  **  I  had  to  see  a 
man  about  some  deeds  at  ten  to  eleven  sharp — a 
man  that's  only  home  on  Sunday  mornin'.  I'm 
off.     See  you  some  other  time  !  " 

He  went  on  alone,  wiping  his  shiny  face.  It 
was  undeniably  very  hot  ;  and  he  felt  uncomfort- 
ably feverish  within,  too.  Nevertheless,  it  was 
precisely  the  sort  of  day  he  had  hoped  for,  and 
the  reason  was  obvious  as  he  stepped  on  to  the 
New  Eden  area.  In  the  sunshine,  and  beneath 
this  flawless  blue  heaven,  the  row  of  convenient 
villas — those  that  were  outwardly  complete,  at 
least  —  had  quite  an  alluring,  greeting  aspect. 
Casswade  noted  with  satisfaction  that  at  least 
three  young  couples,  evidently  contemplating 
"  settling  down,"  but  trying  to  look  as  though 
house -purchase  was  the  last  thing  in  their  minds, 
were  taking  furtive  stock  of  his  property. 

He  hurried  into  the  portable  hut,  said  something 
to  his  foreman  there,  grabbed  two  or  three  hand- 
bills, and  strolled  down  the  pavement  with  his 
hands  behind  him,  and  an  expansive,  philan- 
thropic air  of  content  in  doing  good — not  by 
stealth,  but  with  open  pride.  He  was  humming 
to  himself  the  choice  little  couplet  of  his  own 
composition  : 

"  Ten  pound  down,  twenty-five  when  you  sign, 
And  the  house  is  yours,  and  no  longer  mine  1 " 

**  Ah,  lady,  somethin'  worth  lookin'  at  there," 
he  said,  as  he  reached  the  first  couple.  Cass- 
wade was  intuitive  enough  always  to  address  the 
lady  on  the  artistic  side,  and  leave  business  details 
to  the  gentleman.    **  Jest  fancy  !    Have  you  heard? 


58  LOW    SOCIETY 

— ten  pound  down,  and  it*s  done.  Yes,  I  built 
every  one  of  'em  ;  and  I  can't  say  whether  I  shall 
have  one  left  to  look  at  next  Sunday.  Breaks  your 
heart  to  let  'em  go  at  the  figure." 

"  Ten  pounds  seems  a  lot  of  money,  doesn't 
it  ?  "  mused  the  young  lady.  "  Would  that  be  for 
six  months  in  advance,  or  what?  " 

**  We  were  merely  thinking  of  renting  a  little 
place,"  explained  her  male  companion,  with  a 
blush.  And  Casswade  stiffened,  and  stared 
stonily. 

"  They're  for  sale,  if  you  notice,"  he  said.  '*  I 
could  *  let  '  'em  all  in  half  an  hour  ;  but  I'm  not 
havin'  any  o'  that  rubbish.     Ten  pound  down " 

The  young  couple  edged  on  while  they  dared. 

**  Got  about  threepence  and  their  tram -fare 
between  'em,  I  should  say,"  Casswade  remarked, 
to  his  foreman.  **  I  never  see  such  a  Gawd- 
forsaken  lot  in  my  life.  What  d'you  make  of 
it,  Josh?" 

Josh  was  a  man  of  many  thoughts,  but  few 
words . 

**  I  begin  to  think  the  game's  nearly  played 
right  out,"  he  said,  abstractedly  chewing  his 
moustache -end. 

'*  Why?  You  reckon  the  birth-rate's  dropped  to 
nothin',  then — or  what?  " 

Josh  gave  rather  a  ghastly  little  smile.  He  had 
nine  children  of  his  own  in  the  house  opposite,  and 
had  not  much  interest  left  in  life  as  a  consequence. 

"  I  hear  there's  over  a  thousand  houses  *  to 
let  '  within  two  miles,"  he  said,  **  and  grass  grown 
over  some  o'  the  new  pavements  put  down.  Grim- 
bley's   brought   his    price    down    by   another    five 


LOW    SOCIETY  59 

pounds,  I'm  told,  with  a  box  of  cigars  thrown  in 
on  completion." 

"  Oh,  has  he  ?  "  commented  Casswade,  moodily. 
'*  Well,  whatever  happens,  I  shan't.  I'll  bust 
first.  Do  your  best.  I'm  goin'  home  to  see 
about  a  bit  o'  dinner  myself.  Send  your  boy  up 
for  me  if  anyone  looks  like  bis'ness.  Seen  Loney 
about?" 

*'  Yes."  The  foreman  looked  down  at  the  floor, 
and  laughed.  **  He's  over  there  on  the  new  block. 
He  won't  leave  it  now.  He's  picked  up  every  chip 
and  shaving,  and  put  'em  all  in  a  neat  stack.  And 
not  one  of  the  kids  dare  go  near  it." 

With  a  deep,  reciprocative  chuckle  Casswade 
smoothed  his  silk  hat  and  rolled  away.  He  fully 
intended  to  return  immediately  after  dinner,  a 
blue-and-gold  Sunday  being  such  a  likely  day  ; 
but  two  pints  of  bottled  stout  with  a  fair  meal 
somehow  induced  a  drowsiness.  Miss  Pugh  care- 
fully arranged  two  cushions  behind  his  head  to 
prevent  the  blood  rising  to  it  too  rapidly,  and  the 
rest  was  easy.     He  awoke  about  five  o'clock. 


CHAPTER    VI 

Swooning  amber  and  lilac  tints  lay  low  in  the 
sky  when  Mr.  Casswade  reached  the  estate 
"  office  "  again.  He  looked  in  ;  the  foreman  was 
not  there.  Rather  anxiously  he  looked  about  : 
it  was  incredible  that  Josh  should  have  taken  a 
**  nap  "  and  left  the  estate  to  look  after  itself. 
He  moved  down  the  pavement  ;  a  comfortable 
thrill  ran  through  him  as  he  reached  Number 
Nine — the  first  unoccupied  house  in  the  row. 

In  the  entrance  hall  stood  a  little  group  of 
three,  and  one  was  Josh.  Josh  was  speaking  ;  and 
the  little  woman  tightly  linked  to  a  listening  man's 
arm  was  watching  his  lips  with  rapt,  upturned  face. 
It  was  all  right  I — Hungerford  had  brought  her 
openly. 

Casswade  was  not  spoiling  an  interesting  pic- 
ture. He  leaned  over  the  railing  and  watched. 
From  the  first  he  had  been  rather  **  taken  "  with 
the  look  of  the  tall,  slight  young  fellow  with  the 
dark  little  curls  and  the  quiet,  questioning  smile  ; 
and  he  came  almost  near  envying  him  possession 
of  the  soft  and  delicate  creature  who  clung  to  him 
as  to  a  hero  about  to  undertake  an  incredible 
exploit  on  her  behalf.  Perhaps  he  was  1 — if  he 
expected  the  house  to  last  him  an  average  lifetime 
and  then  pass  on  to  his  heirs. 

Casswade 's  ideal  female,  if  he  had  one,  inclined 


LOW    SOCIETY  6i 

decidedly  to  the  big,  buxom  order  ;  but  on  special 
occasions  he  could  overlook  another  man's  taste  in 
that  direction.  In  the  abstract,  he  would  have 
dismissed  the  future  Mrs.  Hungerford  as  a  fluffy 
little  chicken,  hardly  out  of  the  egg,  and  not  old 
enough  or  big  enough  to  know  anything  about 
marriage.  But,  against  the  background  of  the 
tall,  dark,  serious  young  man,  her  elfin  daintiness, 
her  wistful  happiness,  her  wide  blue  eyes  in  a  small 
oval  face,  gave  a  distinctive  and  romantic  touch 
to  the  picture.  Casswade  acutely  calculated  that 
she  wouldn't  worry  him  to  death  about  wall-papers 
and  ceiling-cracks,  so  long  as  she  could  don  a 
matronly  appearance  and  feel  that  it  was  hers — 
the  home  that  the  man  had  bought  for  her. 

Half  unconsciously  she  looked  round,  her  lips 
still  parted,  the  listening  look  in  her  eyes  ;  and 
young  Hungerford  looked  round  too.  Casswade 
swung  his  glossy  hat,  and  advanced  with  out- 
stretched  hand. 

"How  do,  Mr.  Hungerford?  How  do,  Mrs. 
Hungerford?  "  he  added,  carried  away  by  his  own 
heartiness.  Her  faint  flush,  and  the  pressure  of 
the  man's  hand  on  hers,  escaped  him.  **  Comin* 
into  my  office,  were  you?  Ah,  it's  Sunday — I 
forgot  !  Josh,  bring  a  soft  chair  in  for  the  lady — 
and  tell  the  decorators  I  must  have  them  other 
nine  houses  finished  off  by  Tuesday."  This  was 
an  understood  signal  for  Josh  to  retire  and  dg 
nothing  at  all.  Casswade  strode  on  down  the 
passage,  which  was  just  spacious  enough  to  con- 
tain him.  **  What  do  you  think  of  it  now,  sir? — 
what  does  the  lady  think  of  it  ?  That's  solid 
stuff,  eh?  "     He  gave  a  really  mighty  drive  at  a 


62  LOW    SOCIETY 

portion  of  the  wall  that  he  knew  would  stand  it. 
"  That's  what  you've  got  to  think  of,  ma'am. 
You  don't  want  a  bloomin'  egg-shell  that'll  cave  in 
on  you  one  night — although  I'm  sorry  to  say 
there's  one  or  two  builders  near  here  I  could  name 
that  can  paint  egg-boxes  to  look  like  iron — a  cruel 
thing  to  do.  Just  cast  your  eye  on  the  garden, 
sir.  It  don't  want  two  looks.  Virgin  soil,  never 
been  trod  on.  You  could  grow  enough  vegetables 
there  for  nine  people  all  the  year  round." 

*'  I  certainly  should  try  to — for  two,"  Hunger- 
ford  said,  thoughtfully.  He  did  not  look  exactly 
like  a  successful  vegetable  grower — his  hands 
were  too  long  and  white,  and  his  manner  too 
dreamy.  But  undoubtedly  the  rear  strip  of  ground, 
bathed  in  sunset  hues,  suggested  pleasant  possi- 
bilities. Casswade  wheeled  to  the  lady,  while  the 
iron  was  hot. 

"  Come  up  to  the  bedrooms,  ma'am,"  he  said, 
with  the  blunt  solemnity  of  one  paving  the  way 
for  a  revelation.  "You'd  like  to  know  jest  where 
and  how  you're  goin'  to  live  for  the  next  few  years 
to  come  ;  I  should  myself.  There's  no  hole-and- 
corner  business  here." 

They  followed,  their  steps  echoing  hollowly 
through  the  empty  spaces. 

*'  Look  at  it,"  Casswade  said,  indicating  first 
of  all  a  cubicle  about  ten  feet  by  six.  "  Imagine 
a  blue  and  yeller  paper  on  that.  And  that's 
only  the  back  bedroom.     The  front " 

"It's  rather  small,  dear,  isn't  it?"  she  whis- 
pered, looking  up  into  Hungerford's  face — ready 
to  think  it  most  roomy  if  he  seemed  satisfied. 

"Small?"     the    amazed     Casswade     repeated. 


LOW    SOCIETY  63 

**  My  dear  lady,  it's  meant  to  be.  It's  bijou 
throughout — that's  the  modern  demand.  We 
can't  sell  a  bigger  house  at  any  price.  People 
want  to  be  near  one  another  and  comfortable, 
like.  You  put  your  fav'rite  visitor  in  that  room, 
because  it's  warm,  and  faces  due  south.  Think  o' 
that'  ma'am — due  south.  Here's  where  youHl 
sleep." 

He  led  the  way.  The  wave  of  his  hand  indicated 
that  no  words  were  needed  here.  They  paused 
at  the  doorway,  looking  silently  in.  Indeed,  the 
**  dancey  "  eyes  of  the  girl  had  actually  filmed  a 
little,  as  if  she  were  not  thinking  of  the  room  at 
all,  but  of  something  in  the  future  which  it  sug- 
gested. Casswade  put  them  down  as  a  thunder- 
ing queer  couple,  who  knew  no  more  about  house- 
keeping and  house -value  than  they  knew  about 
rum  hot.  Many  of  his  prospective  clients  had 
been  known  to  probe  every  ceiling,  bang  every 
floorboard,  and  wreak  absolute  damage  before  they 
decided  to  go  home  and  make  up  their  fickle 
minds.  These  two  stood  like  a  pair  of  grave, 
old-fashioned  children. 

**  What  do  you  think,  Ella  ?  "  Hungerford  asked 
at  length,  looking  down  at  her. 

She  looked  up.  **  I  think  just  what  you  do," 
she  said,  with  the  suspicion  of  a  tremble. 

•'You'd  like  it?" 

**  She'd  love  it,"  Casswade  put  in,  his  own 
voice  almost  breaking.  "  I  speak  from  experi- 
ence. I  built  the  place  myself.  You  know  what 
I  mean,  sir — when  you  get  fond  of  anythin',  you 
don't  like  to  part  with  it." 

The   girl   whispered,   and   the    man   whispered 


64  LOW    SOCIETY 

back.  Another  pause.  The  girl  pressed  his  hand, 
as  if  in  mute  confidence  or  gratitude.  The  man 
smiled  back.  Casswade,  breathing  hard,  could 
make  neither  top  nor  tail  of  this  byplay. 

Then  Hungerford  turned.  There  was  an  air  of 
finality  about  him — if  with  a  queer  reservation. 
At  the  foot  of  the  stair  he  beckoned  to  Casswade, 
and  moved  into  the  empty  front  parlour.  Ella 
stood  on  the  step,  looking  out  at  the  dying  sun- 
glow  over  Barking  Town. 

**  Well,  I  have  viewed  your  house  three  times, 
Mr.  Casswade,"  Hungerford  began,  in  his  quiet, 
self-contained  way.  "  I  don't  want  you  to  think 
I'm  playing  the  fool  with  you  ;  and  yet,  even  now, 
I  can't  see  my  way  quite  clear,  much  as  I  would 
wish  to  close  with  you  on  the  spot." 

**  You  can't  ?  Ain't — er — ain't  the  lady's  people 
quite  agreeable?"  Casswade  queried,  anxious  to 
come  to  the  point. 

•*  Nothing  of  that."  He  smiled.  **  To  be  frank, 
it's  purely  a  question  of  money." 

"  Money  !  "  Casswade  felt  gloomy,  and  looked 
it.     This  word  haunted  him.      **  Money,  eh?  " 

**  Yes.     You  see "  he  hesitated,   as   if  not 

accustomed  to  speaking  of  his  private  affairs  ; 
then  went  determinedly  on  :  "I  want  to  be  honest, 
Mr.  Casswade,  both  with  you  and  myself.  I  have 
figured  it  out  roughly.  Beyond  the  ten  pounds 
deposit,  there  are  other  preliminary  expenses — 
a  good  many,  in  fact.  It  must  sound  very  paltry 
to  you,  no  doubt  ;  but  I  am  so  placed  at  present 
that  I — well,  I  am  waiting  for  better  things  to 
come,  so  to  put  it.  The  Loan  Society  repay- 
ments, with  the  rates  and  taxes,  will  be  as  much  as 


LOW    SOCIETY  65 

I  can  manage  for  the  present.     Add  to  that  my 

marriage,   and  the   cost   of   furnishing "      He 

paused  again,  his  lips  set. 

**  Have  a  smoke,"  Casswade  said,  proffering 
his  case.      **  I  can't  offer  you  a  drink.** 

**  No,  thanks  ;  I'll  have  both  with  you  at  another 
time.  Just  this  !  *'  He  put  his  hand  on  Cass- 
wade*s  shoulder.  "  It  galls  me,  but  it  happens  to 
be  truth.  I  wanted  the  house,  and  should  have 
liked  to  come  straight  to  it  ;  but  what  is  the  use 
of  cheating  myself,  if  I  can't  quite  see  my  way 
to  raise  the  twenty-five  pounds  on  signing  the 
deeds  ?     It  is  a  small  hitch,  of  course  ;  but ** 

**  It's  a  big  hitch,  and  that's  a  fact,"  Casswade 
said.  He  thought  hard — apparently.  He  had  met 
the  same  hitch  before,  and  removed  it  himself 
without  too  much  self-sacrifice.  In  this  parti- 
cular case,  too,  he  had  his  own  thoughts.  **  Well, 
now,"  he  said,  sinking  his  voice,  "I'm  goin'  to 
make  a  departure.  I  don't  ask  questions  ;  I  like 
you,  and  I  think  you  like  me.  And  I  wouldn*t 
care  to  see  you  done  out  o'  the  house,  and  live 
in  three  rooms,  as  I  s'pose  you  first  thought  of 
doin*.  Mr.  Hungerford,  twenty-five  pounds  mustn't 
stand  in  your  way.  It  shan't.  I'd  lose  it  myself 
first." 

"You?" 

"Mel  Can't  I  trust  you?  Don't  I  know  a 
gentleman?  I'll  find  the  money  myself,  and  it 
can  stand  over  at  a  nominal  five  per  cent,  interest 
till  I  come  and  ask  you  for  it.  And  that  won't  be 
yet.      That's    settled." 

"  It's  very,  very  good  of  you,"  Hungerford  said, 
gripping  his  hand.     It  seemed  as  if  he  might  still 

L.s.  F 


66  LOW    SOCIETY 

have  misgivings,  but  felt  it  mean  to  speak  of  them 
after  so  friendly  and  unexpected  a  compromise. 
To  Casswade,  in  that  moment,  it  was  made  suffi- 
ciently clear  that  this  was  his  first  experience  as  a 
borrower  in  any  shape  or  form,  and  that  he  himself 
wore  quite  a  halo . 

Yet  again  Hungerford  gripped  his  hand.  It 
was  becoming  a  little  embarrassing.  Casswade 
moved  hastily  to  the  window,  took  out  a  pocket- 
book,  and  appeared  to  be  making  some  deep, 
irrevocable  entry. 

**  There  !  Now,  don't  worry  any  more  about 
that,*'  he  advised,  cheerfully.  He  had  almost  a 
fatherly  appearance  in  the  half-light.  "  I'll  see 
you  to-morrow  evening  at  my  office — Monday's 
always  a  lucky  day.  Bring  your  ten  pounds,  sign 
the  agreement,  and  simply  leave  the  rest  to  me. 
Now — "  he  swung  round — "  What  paper  would 
Mrs.  Hungerford  like  on  this  'ere  wall,  d'you 
think?" 

"  'Sh  !  "  Hungerford  said,  smiling  again. 
**  You're  premature,  you  know." 

"  Eh?  Oh,  it's  all  one  to  me.  Bless  you,  I'm 
not  one  to  stick  over  a  word  or  a  week." 

"  You're  a  married  man  yourself,  of  course?  " 
the  other  said,  never  doubting  it. 

"  Me  ?  Oh,  cert'nly — to  be  sure  !  "  He  laughed 
quite  jovially,  mainly  concerned  at  the  moment 
with  cementing  the  intimacy  to  ensure  the  deal. 
And,  on  an  impulse,  Hungerford  turned. 

"  Ella  !  I'm  saying  that  he  must  bring  Mrs. 
Casswade  in  one  evening  for  an  hour  or  so,  when 
we  are  settled  down  here — mustn't  he?  " 

"Eh?      Oh — er — yes,    very    pleased — er — very 


LOW    SOCIETY  67 

good  of  you,  Vm  sure  !  "  Under  Ella's  clear  eyes 
he  turned  the  awkward  point  a  little  flurriedly. 
"  Ah,  here's  my  foreman.  Another  married  man, 
Mr.  Hungerford  ;  only  he's  bungled  it — not  like 
you  and  me,  eh  ? — ha,  ha  !  Nine  o'  the  best  to 
keep  ;  only  nine.  Nine's  his  unlucky  number,  I 
tell  him.  Married  at  nineteen,  got  nine  children, 
and — er — very  likely  only  another  nine  months  to 
live." 

Ella  looked  at  Hungerford,  whose  lips  fought 
against  a  twitch.  The  foreman  coughed  and 
looked  a  trifle  uncomfortable.  Mr.  Casswade 
remembered  it  was  Sunday,  and  pulled  himself 
together. 

**  It's  settled,  Josh,"  he  said,  wiping  his  face. 
"  I've  lost  another  house — he's  got  it.  Whatever 
you  do,  don't  let  me  forget  that  Mr.  Hungerford 
will  be  here  to-morrow  evening — what  time  did 
you  say,  sir?  " 

Hungerford  hesitated.  Then,  "  Make  it  Tues- 
day, at  seven  o'clock,"  he  said. 

**  Right  !  "  He  made  another  deep,  irrevocable 
entry.  **  I  only  wanted  to  keep  up  the  classi- 
ness of  the  estate,"  he  said,  with  emotion,  closing 
the  book.     **  I  haven't  failed  yet." 

They  had  another  glance  at  the  walls,  at  the 
rear  rooms,  at  the  garden  beyond — as  if  with  a 
new,  bated  interest,  Ella  clinging  more  tightly 
than  ever  ;  and  then  they  shook  hands  and  went 
away  in  the  dusk,  the  woman  looking  up,  the 
man  looking  down. 

**  Decent  feller  I  Decent  bis'ness,  I  call  that," 
muttered  Mr.  Casswade  with  genuine  satisfac- 
tion, looking  after  them.      **  I   knew  he'd  bite — 

F   2 


68  LOW    SOCIETY 

although  he  didn't.  Smartest  sale  IVe  had. 
What  d'you  think?"  He  turned  about,  with  a 
convulsive  chuckle.  "Asked  me  point  blank  if 
I  was  married,  and  I  went  and  told  'em  I  was. 
All  right,  ain't  it  ?— me  !  So  you'll  know,  if  he 
says  anythin'  about  '  Mrs.  Casswade  '  to  you. 
Needn't  make  myself  out  a  bloomin'  liar." 

Josh  screwed  his  face  into  a  ghastly  little  grin. 
It  did  strike  him  as  humorous— anything  con- 
nected with  that  topic,  of  which  he  knew  so  much 
and  Casswade  so  little. 


CHAPTER    VII 

On  the  evening  of  Tuesday,  September  loth,  as 
gravely  recorded  in  the  journal  of  wedded  life 
kept  by  Ella  for  a  whole  month — and  thereafter 
transferred  to  her  memory — Jim  Hungerford  put 
down  ten  sovereigns  and  signed  the  momentous 
agreement.  A  little  lamp  flickered  in  the  estate 
"  office/'  only  a  few  streaks  of  lemon  light  being 
left  in  the  sky  outside.  In  niggling  little  char- 
acters Mr.  Matt  Casswade  put  his  name  to  that 
document  and  to  a  duplicate  copy.  Once  again 
Hungerford  took  the  pen,  and  signed  in  turn  the 
purely  formal  little  note -of -hand  for  the  private 
loan  of  twenty-five  pounds  at  a  nominal  five  per 
cent,  interest.  Josh,  the  foreman,  stood  silently 
by  as  a  sort  of  witness  to  the  fact  that  there 
had  been  no  undue  coercion  or  misrepresentation. 
It  was  done. 

"  All  bar  one  thing,"  Casswade  recollected. 
**  We  can't  leave  these  two  blanks.  You  haven't 
filled  in  what  you  are,  Mr.  Hungerford— by  trade, 
profession,  or  what  not." 

"  Well,  I'm  nothing,"  he  said,  frankly  and 
simply. 

**  Nothing?  "  They  stared  at  him  with  mixed 
reverence  and  incredulity.  "I'm  afraid  *  nothin'  ' 
won't  go  down  on  a  document,"  Casswade  rumi- 
nated.     '*  You    might     be     anythin',    you    see — a 


JO  LOW    SOCIETY 

burglar  restin',  or  anythin'  o'  that  sort,  in  the  legal 
eye — eh.  Josh?  "     And  Josh  thought  it  probable. 

He  stood  firm.  It  was  clear  that,  either  for 
doubtful  reasons,  or  because  he  preferred  strict 
privacy  as  regarded  the  neighbours,  he  had  no 
information  to  supply  on  that  score. 

*'  I've  got  it,"  Casswade  said.  **  I'll  put  you 
down  as  *  gent.'  That's  legal  enough.  You're  a 
retired  gent,  Mr.  Hungerford,  rollin'  in  wealth  and 
with  a  fancy  for  buyin'  houses.  When  you've 
bought  this  one,  you'll  want  to  buy  more,  same  as 
I  did.  With  bricks  and  mortar  behind  you,  sir, 
you  can  face  the  blessed  world  on  stilts.  Eh, 
Josh?" 

Josh  thought  it  more  than  feasible.  Strictly 
speaking,  he  had  no  genuine  experience,  as  he 
was  only  the  ornamental  "  buyer  "  of  the  first 
house  on  each  new  block  begun,  and  had  to  shift 
his  belongings  and  nine  children  with  a  depress- 
ing frequency. 

Hungerford  lingered  a  minute,  looking  at  a  slip 
of  paper  he  held.  They  had  been  wondering  what 
on  earth  was  on  it. 

**  I  was  figuring  it  out,"  he  said.  "  I  see  that 
the  yearly  interest  on  the  balance  loaned  increases 
the  price  of  the  house  by  about  a  hundred  and 
twenty  pounds." 

"What's  that?"  Casswade  laughed,  lying 
back,  hands  deep  in  his  pockets.  He  had  the 
ten  pounds  safe  in  one.  '*  You  don't  notice  it, 
spread  out  over  them  years  ;  you  get  used  to  it, 
like  your  meals.  And  look  what  you've  got  for 
your  money  !  There'll  be  simply  the  ten  or  twelve 
pounds  extra  for  makin'  the  road  and  pavement — 


LOW    SOCIETY  71 

eh  ?  Oh,  yes,  you  all  have  to  pay  that,  of  course — 
it's  in  the  deeds.  And  then  there's  about  the  same 
amount  for — but  what's  the  use  o'  worryin'  over 
nothin'  ?  "  He  fancied  the  listener  had  winced. 
"  What  I  always  say  to  a  young  couple  jest 
marryin'  is,  the  quickest  way  they  can  cripple 
'emselves  is  by  havin'  a  crowd  o'  children  comin' 
along.  It's  suicide,  sir,  as  people  are  only  jest 
beginnin*  to  see  for  'emselves.  In  time  to  come, 
people  '11  ask  'emselves  sensibly  how  many  tlieir 
money  can  run  to,  same  as  they  choose  between 
rump  steak  and  a  pound  o'  sixpenny  pieces.  Then 
there  won't  be  no  out -o' -works  and  lunatics  and 
wasters.  Look  at  Josh  here,  with  his  unlucky 
number " 

Josh  turned  and  walked  away.  It  was  singular 
that  at  the  moment  a  trio  of  working  men  with 
heads  down  should  appear  at  the  road -bend,  chant- 
ing in  different  keys  a  doleful  ditty  concerning  the 
fate  of  their  wives  and  children,  and  ending  with 
the  pointed  reminder  :  "  For  you  don't  know  what 
you  may  come  to  1  "  Casswade  rose  resentfully 
from  his  stool,  and  banged  the  desk  lid. 

"  Dunno  how  you  think,  but  I  call  it  time  it 
was  put  a  stop  to,"  he  said.  "  Some  of  'em  raided 
my  timber-yard  last  week.  I  hadn't  the  heart  to 
give  'em  in  charge — leastways,  I  couldn't  catch 
'em at  it.  Things  ain't  safe.  There's  only  a  p'lice 
force  between  that  mob  and  the  bloomin'  sack 
o*  London.  The  licker  is,  it  ain't  come  yet  ;  but 
it  will,  you  mark  me,  the  way  things  are  goin'  on. 
Trade's  that  bad,  where  a  man  could  drink  good 
whiskey  a  few  years  back,  he's  got  to  put  up 
with  beer  in  bottle   nowadays.      You're   good  at 


72  LOW    SOCIETY 

figurin'  out  figures,  ain't  you,  Mr.  Hungerford? 
Well,  jest  how  long  will  it  be,  with  a  new  inven- 
tion every  day  to  do  the  work  o*  ten  men,  and 
people  bringin'  kids  into  the  world  galore,  before 
half  England's  out  o'  work  and  livin'  on  the  other 
half?  I  mayn't  see  it  :  you  will.  We've  asked 
for  it,  and  we've  got  it.  There's  only  one  lot 
makin*  a  fat  livin'  and  layin'  money  and  stock 
quietly  by  all  the  while,  and  that's  the  profes- 
sional religion  lot — what  they  call  the  Estab- 
lished Church.  I'd  Church  'em  !  As  Marionette 
Dick  says,  the  whole  lot  ought  to  be  made  to 
practise  what  they  preach  ;  there  wouldn't  be  a 
dozen  left  in  it  come  Chris'mas.  If  there's  one 
thing  I  ain't,  Mr.  Hungerford,  it's  a  bloomin* 
hypocrite.** 

Mr.  Casswade  had  managed  to  lock  the  office 
door  while  he  delivered  himself  of  this  public 
warning,  and  now  suddenly  held  out  his  hand. 

**  I'm  not  goin'  to  keep  you  from  the  lady 
another  minnit,"  he  said.  "  You  and  her  '11  come 
down  and  see  what  you  want  and  what  you  don't 
want.     It'll  be  ready  when  you  are." 

**  Thanks  1  ** 

Hungerford  gripped  the  puff  of  purple  flesh  in 
his  long  white  fingers,  and  walked  away  as  if 
quietly  glad  that  matters  were  clinched.  Cass- 
wade took  a  quick  nip  from  a  flask,  and  looked 
around. 

The  liquor  apparently  met  some  lump  in  his 
throat.  For  a  second  his  face  crimsoned,  as 
as  though  he  had  thought  of  the  treacherous 
inward  fat.  But  it  was  not  that.  Coming  that 
way,  at  a  steady  saunter,   were  two   figures   that 


LOW    SOCIETY  T2, 

seemed  unpleasantly  familiar  in  the  dusk  just 
then.  Selina,  in  a  large  mushroom  hat  and  her 
**  party  "  white  dress,  with  the  bodice  cut  low, 
rather  dwarfed  the  stiff,  bowler -hatted  male  figure 
at  her  side  ;  but  the  fact  that  they  were  arm-in- 
arm was  sufficient.  It  looked  like  crafty  design 
Hungerford  had  to  pass  within  a  few  feet  of  them. 
Casswade  literally  held  his  breath — he  scarcely 
knew  why,  or  what  there  was  definitely  to  fear 
now.  He  only  recollected  the  menace  and  his 
dream. 

It  passed.  Hungerford  had  gone  on  uncon- 
scious and  unchallenged.  But  all  was  not  over. 
Selina  and  her  young  man  paused,  and  then  turned 
the  bend  and  came  on  straight  toward  the  port- 
able **  office."  Casswade  felt  glad  of  the  dusk. 
He  had  just  time  to  blow  his  nose  with  sufficient 
violence  to  account  for  his  apoplectic  flush. 

**  Good  gracious  I  "  he  said,  with  a  start  of 
surprise.     "Is  it  you?     How's  your  father?" 

"  Nicely,  I  think — just  the  same  as  on  Sunday. 
How's  Mr.  Casswade?"  Selina  returned,  with 
a  sound  like  a  laugh  that  he  could  not  quite 
fathom.  It  might  mean  that  she  had  heard  of  the 
wedding-day  cheque,  or  it  might  be  the  feminine 
way  of  leading  up  to  something  very  difi"erent. 

"  Bonny,"  he  said.  It  was  the  only  suitable 
word  he  could  think  of.  He  kept  his  eye  strictly 
on  her,  till  he  could  be  sure  what  Baversham's 
fixed  stare  had  behind  it.      "  How's  yourself?  " 

**  Just  the  same  as  on  Saturday,"  she  replied, 
with  a  similar  sound. 

There  seemed  no  one  else  worth  enquiring 
after.     They  stood  uncertainly  still  for  a  moment, 


74  LOW    SOCIETY 

and  then  Selina  pulled  at  her  young  man's 
arm. 

"  I  thought  you  had  something  to  say,"  she 
said,  stuffing  her  handkerchief  into  her  mouth. 
And  this  broke  the  spell. 

"Ah,  how  do  ?  "  Casswade  asked,  with  a  short 
nod. 

*'  Never  better."  Baversham  tilted  his  bowler  a 
little.  *'  Yes,  I've  come  to  say  that  I  think  I'd 
better  settle  and  done  with  it.     I've  bitten." 

''You've— what?" 

'*  Bitten.  Not  half  bitten,  either.  The  house, 
I  mean.  I  thought  of  buyin'  one  of  yours,  you 
remember." 

"When  was  this?"  Casswade  enquired,  after 
a  moment,  his  mottled  face  a  study. 

"  Why — er — last  week.  My  name's  Hunger- 
ford,  you  know." 

Selina  let  loose  a  half -stifled  peal  of  laughter. 
George  did  not  move  a  muscle.  The  rainbow 
hues  just  visible  in  Mr.  Casswade's  face  assumed 
their  brightest  tint,  and  then  faded  away.  He 
pointed. 

"  Look  here,"  he  said,  huskily,  "  I  had  my  joke, 
and  you've  had  yours.  Don't  let  it  go  any  farther. 
Else  you  may  find  a  nine -stone  man  and  a  seven- 
teen-stone  man  ain't  a  fair  match.  I'll  put  it  to 
Selina  as  well,  if  you  like  I  " 

"You're  more  than  nine  stone,  aren't  you?" 
Selina  enquired,  indignantly,  of  her  young  man. 
"  Why,  I'm  over  that  myself." 

"  Never  mind,"  Casswade  went  darkly  on,  re- 
covering himself  in  a  degree.  "  You  heard  what 
I  said.     Don't  think  to  begin  any  game  on  me. 


LOW    SOCIETY  75 

or  there's  no  knowin'  where  it  '11  stop.  You're 
a  couple  of  half-baked  young  fools,  that's  what 
you  are." 

**  Very  likely,"  Selina  said,  looking  away.  **  It 
was  a  young  fool  that  brought  Goliath  down, 
so  they  say."    And  Casswade  was  intensely  struck. 

"What  d'you  mean?"  he  asked,  breathing 
hard.  "Come,  what  d'you  mean?  Are  you 
callin'  me  a  Goliath,  or  whatever  his  name  was?  " 

"  It's  known  from  here  to  Beckton,  and  back 
again,"  she  replied,  absently. 

"What  is?" 

"  Why,  that  my  young  man  hasn't  slept  at  home 
for  weeks  on  end." 

She  made  a  sudden  swoop  forward.  George 
shot  out  his  arm,  but  it  was  too  late.  Leaping  up, 
she  brought  her  open  hand  sideways  against  Mr. 
Casswade 's  fleshy  face  with  a  crack  that  could 
have   been   heard   in   the    houses   beyond. 

"Take  that,"  she  panted.      "And  that." 

Her  left  hand  produced  a  similar  crack  from  his 
other  cheek.  "  That's  from  the  woman.  Now," 
she  said,  standing  back  to  pluck  at  George,  "  Give 
him  a  taste  oS  a  man's  hand,  between  the  eyes. 
Black  *em  I  Go  on  1 — take  your  coat  off,  or  I 
will  for  you." 

She  tugged  at  the  garment.  George  looked, 
and  hesitated.  "  No,"  he  demurred  ;  "he's  had 
enough  for  to-night,  by  the  look  of  him.  I'll 
wait."  He  went  close.  "  Good-night,  Seven - 
teen-stone,"  he  said,  briefly.  "  My  turn'll  come 
—it'll  be  all  the  fresher." 

Arm-in-arm,  they  walked  calmly  off.  Casswade 
stood,  tears  pouring  from  his  eyes,  a  livid  patch  on 


76  LOW    SOCIETY 

either  cheek  showing  plain  in  the  half-light .  Selina, 
as  she  said,  was  no  featherweight  ;  but  the  stun- 
ning physical  pain  was  as  nothing  compared  to 
the  sick  sense  of  chagrin  and  foreboding  that 
followed.  For  the  first  time  for  years,  Casswade 
seemed  to  feel  a  real  void  at  the  pit  of  his  stomach. 
He  had  some  wild  idea  of  calling  George  back  and 
offering  to  take  the  blow  between  the  eyes  then 
and  there,  to  settle  matters.  It  seemed  so  pos- 
sible that  a  young  couple  of  that  description 
might  succeed  in  making  him  a  laughing-stock 
from  end  to  end  of  Barking. 

Presently  he  brought  himself  to  peer  round. 
No,  no  one  had  noticed.  He  whistled  a  little, 
before  he  moved,  to  disarm  any  suspicion.  Then 
he  strolled  into  Number  Nine.  The  water  was 
laid  on  here.  He  held  his  cheeks  heroically  in 
turn  under  the  kitchen -tap  as  long  as  he  could 
keep  his  body  bent.  A  good  deal  of  the  water 
spirted  below  his  collar  and  trickled  out  at  his 
boots,  leaving  a  most  uncomfortable  sensation  all 
over  him  as  he  stood  up  gasping  again  ;  but  the 
worst  was  over.  He  was  able  to  construct  a  curse 
to  fit  Mr.  Shadd's  treachery  ;  and. for  about  five 
minutes  Ella's  kitchen  was  full  of  it.  In  fact,  he 
cursed  everything  animate  and  inanimate  he  could 
think  of. 

It  relieved  him — spite  of  all  that  conscientious 
theorists  might  urge.  As  he  set  out  again  in  the 
dark,  he  could  chuckle  at  the  mere  narrow  margin 
by  which  Hungerford's  deal  had  been  consum- 
mated, if  only  just  to  spite  the  young  puppies.  He 
even  concentrated  his  brain  upon  a  project  of 
anonymous  postcards  and  tremendous  innuendoes 


LOW    SOCIETY  Tj 

concerning  Baversham  that  should  render  the  latter 
an  impossible  husband  for  any  woman  outside 
Bedlam.  And,  in  pursuance  of  this  policy,  he  was 
deep  enough  to  determine  on  the  spot  to  treat  the 
whole  affair — outwardly — as  a  foolish  joke  that 
had  left  no  sting. 


CHAPTER    VIII 

Surveying  himself  furtively  as  he  passed  a 
tailor's  window -glass,  Mr.  Casswade  judged  his 
appearance  to  be  fairly  normal.  He  allowed  the 
fresh  air  Jto  blow  upon  him  for  a  few  minutes 
longer,  and  then  quite  confidently  pushed  open 
the  door  of  his  "  local  "  and  advanced  up  the 
three -ha'penny  bar.  A  glance  round  to  make 
certain  that  the  man  with  the  uncomfortable  "  fat  " 
theory  was  an  absentee,  and  he  felt  almost  himself 
again.  He  drank  a  pint  of  bitter  beer  without  a 
pause  for  breath. 

"  You'll  die  if  you  go  on  like  that,"  said  the 
bright  bar -lady,  archly  offended.  **  Why  don't 
you  sip  it,  like  I  do  ?  " 

"  You'd  starve,  if  we  did,"  he  retorted.  And 
she  saw  the  force  of  it  at  once. 

**  Quite  right,"  she  said,  becoming  serious. 
**  Nature  arranged  it  so,  of  course.  I  saved  this 
flower  especially  for  you,  Mr.  Casswade — a  dear, 
teeny,  weeny  little  love  of  a  rosebud.     Look  !  " 

**  Humph  I  "  he  grunte'd.  "  What  d'you  take  me 
for?— a  ballet  girl?" 

'*  Oh,  hush,  Mr.  Casswade,"  she  said,  as  though 
hurt  by  another  adjective.  "I'm  surprised  at  you. 
I  thought  there  were  a  few  gentlemen  left  in 
Barking." 

**  I  don't  come  across   many,"  he  commented. 


LOW    SOCIETY  79 

with  vague  emphasis.  **  Gimme  another  pint  and 
go  away.     I  want  to  taste  what  it*s  like." 

Presently  he  wheeled  round  on  his  stool .  There 
was  an  animated  discussion  going  on  in  the  bar 
that  threatened  to  develop  into  argument.  Even 
his  appearance  had  failed  to  check  it . 

**  What's  it  all  about?  "  he  demanded.  "  Free 
trade,  or  free  beer,  or  what  ?  " 

The  butcher's  manager  from  round  the  corner 
swung  round  as  to  a  final  arbiter. 

*'  Here  you  are,  ask  Mr.  Casswade — he'll  tell 
you  whether  I'm  right — which  I  am.  I'm  talkin' 
about   Jews   and   Germans " 

**  My  Gawd,  then  I'm  off,"  said  Mr.  Casswade, 
hastily  seizing  his  beer. 

**  No,  half  a  minute  !  I'm  saying  that  there's 
over  a  million  Jews  in  this  country,  and  that  you 
never  see  a  poor  one,  or  one  dragging  a  barrel- 
organ,  or  one  ringing  the  workhouse  bell.  And 
why  ?  Is  there  anyone  in  the  wide  world  that  can 
answer  that  question  ?  How  is  it  that  a  Jew  comes 
over  here  with  fourpence  and  a  dirty  shirt,  and  a 
few  years  later  you  find  him  coining  money  in 
some  shop  or  other  of  his  own  ?  How  ?  This 
party  here  " — indicating  a  man  who  sat  with  his 
legs  crossed  and  a  puzzling  smile  on  his  face — 
"  wants  to  tell  me  that " 

"Is  he  a  Jew?  "  Casswade  put  in,  glaring  at 
the  man.  **  What's  he  doin'  here,  spendin'  money  ? 
What's  he  drinkin' ?  " 

"  No,  sir^  I  can't  say  I'm  a  Jew,"  the  man  an- 
swered for  himself,  placidly  ;  "  and  I'm  not  drink- 
ing anything,  because  I'm  not  thirsty.  Just  as  I 
have  nothing  to  say  against  Jews  as  Jews,  so  I  am 


8o  LOW    SOCIETY 

not  ashamed  of  entering  a  public-house.  Allow 
me  to  offer  you  a  leaflet,  sir.  It  will  show  you 
that  I  am  going  from  place  to  place  in  this  district 
in  the  name  of  the  True  God,  as  opposed  to  the 
theatrical  Deity  which  our  Romish  Church  pro- 
fesses to  worship." 

**  What's  he  talkin'  about?  *'  Casswade  glanced 
at  the  pamphlet.  "  I  can  see  you  bein*  thrown 
out  into  the  street,"  he  opined,  candidly. 

**  Quite  possibly,  sir,"  was  the  cheerful  reply. 
**  ril  only  keep  you  gentlemen  a  few  minutes  from 
your  own  topics.  Now,  I  have  here  a  little  book. 
It  is  known  as  the  Holy  Bible.  I  ask  you,  as 
sensible  fellow-men,  who  know  that  the  time  has 
come  in  this  country  to  think  and  to  act,  what 
there  is  in  common  between  the  religion  taught 
us  in  this  Book,  and  the  religion  taught  to-day  by 
the  Church?" 

He  waited.  He  was  obviously  an  eccentric,  but 
one  gifted  with  the  quiet  method  which  convinces. 

**  Well,  now,  you  can  call  it  a  bloomin'  funny 
thing,"  Casswade  said,  looking  round  at  the  others, 
**  but  I  was  sayin*  much  the  same  to  a  friend  o* 
mine  not  an  hour  ago.  I  wanted  to  know  myself, 
same  as  this  chap,  how  much  longer  we're  goin' 
to  pamper  up  a  Church  with  palaces  and  millions 
o'  money,  that  hasn't  done  a  bloomin'  iota  o* 
good  in  a  thousand  years  to  anyone  or  anythin' — 
'cept  itself.     How's  that?" 

**  You  put  it  bluntly,  sir,  but  you're  on  the 
mark,"  said  the  man,  nodding  courteously.  "  If 
Christ  came  to  earth  again.  He  would  not  recog- 
nize that  Church  as  His  Own  in  any  particular. 
For  one  thing,  there  is  no  sincerity  or  meaning  in 


LOW    SOCIETY  8 1 

a  religion  whose  exponents  make  money,  and 
superfluous  money,  by  it — whose  '  ministers  '  are 
mechanically  turned  out  of  a  theological  machine 
to  fight  and  manoeuvre  for  the  best  *  livings.' 
The  whole  thing  is  a  huge,  bright  bubble.  The 
man  who  has  a  call  from  God  to  help  and  guide 
his  fellow -men  must  obey  involuntarily — must  in 
honesty  yield  up  all  save  the  bare  necessaries  of 
existence  ;  and  the  only  proof  of  his  genuine  belief 
and  desire  can  lie  essentially  in  his  life  of  self- 
sacrifice — because  his  Master  had  not  even  where 
to  lay  His  head.** 

*'  Jest  what  I  said — or  what  I  meant  to  say,'* 
agreed  Casswade,  with  a  gulp  at  his  tankard. 
"  That's  right  enough — as  far  as  it  goes." 

"  But  it  is  not  exactly  what  I  began  to  say,'* 
went  on  the  other.  *'  This  pamphlet  contains  a 
specific  impeachment " 

"What  might  that  be?"  asked  Casswade, 
narrowly. 

**  If  you  listen,  sir,  I'll  tell  you.  Our  Church, 
under  another  name,  is  still  the  Church  of  Rome. 
In  this  Book,  I  find  no  mention  anywhere  of  paid 
Bishops,  Arch -bishops.  Deans,  Canons,  Rectors, 
Curates — or  anything  of  that.  I  find  no  mention 
of  palaces  and  thousands  a  year  as  earthly  reward 
for  those  whose  spontaneous  truth  and  sincerity 
made  them  give  up  all  and  follow  The  Christ — to 
help  others  to  find  Christ.  Our  Church  can 
never  reach  those  who  need  it  most  of  all — the 
struggling,  repining  masses.  It  is  a  grave  ques- 
tion, my  friends,  whether  the  Church  really  wants 
to  reach  them  :  the  incongruity  would  be  too 
marked  and  too  grotesque.  You  never  see  a 
L.s.  G 


82  LOW    SOCIETY 

poor,  ragged  man  in  a  church,  do  you  ?  The 
theatrical  pomp  that  passes  for  holy  atmosphere 
sends  him  slinking  away.  The  Church  offers  a 
rich  man's  religion.  They  of  the  underworld, 
living  in  hovels,  crawling  along  the  dark  ditches 
and  by-ways,  look  up  at  the  glittering  episcopal 
edifices,  peopled  by  ministers  in  costly  raiment 
who  have  never  missed  a  meal  or  slept  out  of  a 
dainty  bed.  If  you  stripped  the  pomp  away  from 
the  Church,  you  would  find  a  grinning,  bleached 
skeleton.  This  Church — this  Romish  Church — 
calls  to  the  people  across  an  unbridgable  gulf.  It 
spends  vast  sums  in  outward  ornament  and  elab- 
orate procedure,  knowing  perfectly  well  that 
thousands  of  those  over  whom  Christ  yearns  are 
lacking  a  crust  of  bread,  and  see  their  little  ones 
perish  for  lack  of  nutrition.  It  refuses  to  bury  a 
child  not  '  baptised,'  although  Christ  said  :  '  Let 
the  little  ones  come  unto  Me.'  It  is  an  imperious, 
luxurious,  sensuous,  self -cheating  mockery.  It 
loves  cloistered  ease  and  repose,  drugging  to  the 
conscience  ;  it  appeals  only  to  the  emotions,  and 
never  to  the  heart  ;  its  every  word  and  action 
comes  across  footlights.  And  let  me  remind  you, 
gentlemen,  that  it  draws  most  of  its  resources  from 
ancient  endowments  which  many  of  our  greatest 
statesmen  and  thinkers  have  declared  to  belong  to 
the  nation.     But  the  pilfering  Church  is  protected 

by  its  bland  mask  of  religion,  and  hence " 

He  was  interrupted.  Beyond  the  bar  door  a 
man  with  a  deep,  resonant  voice,  accompanied  by 
a  man  with  an  indifferent  fiddle,  had  burst  out 
into  "  Alice,  where  art  thou?  "  And  this  was  one 
of  the  songs  to  which,  for  some  unknown  reason, 


LOW    SOCIETY  83 

one  must  always  listen.  A  pause  ;  and  then  the 
singer  had  begun  cleverly  again  on  a  note  which 
can  never  fail  while  the  language  lasts  and  men 
have  minds  a  simple  song  can  reach — "  Annie 
Laurie."  His  third  attempt,  "  The  Kerry  Dance," 
saddest  and  gladdest  of  known  melodies,  was 
scarcely  as  successful,  as  his  accompanist,  essay- 
ing to  execute  a  few  quick  movements  on  the 
strings,  gave  evidence  of  having  been  '*  treated  " 
too  liberally.  Then  from  bar  to  bar  the  singer  came 
groping  his  way.  He  proved  to  be  a  man  long 
since  broke  and  blinded  in  England's  wars,  and 
allowed  to  extract  sympathy  by  the  exhibition  of 
his  scars.  Mr.  Casswade  was  moved  to  the  extent 
of  three -ha'pence. 

"  What  d'you  expect,  if  you  join  the  army," 
said  Casswade.  "  You  asked  for  it,  and  you've 
got  it,  and  now  you're  grumblin'.  Go  on  I  " 
He  turned  almost  affably  to  the  surprising  man 
with  no  beer.  "  You  was  sayin'  somethin'  about 
masks." 

**  I  went,  the  other  Sunday  evening,"  said  the 
eccentric,  uncrossing  his  legs  and  leaning  for- 
ward, "  into  a  church  not  many  miles  from 
where  we  sit.  A  Divine  Service  was  supposed 
to  be  held.  There  was  a  rustle  of  silks  and  satins 
and  laces,  and  a  wave  of  scent,  all  around  me. 
I  think  most  of  the  worshippers  were  won- 
dering whether  I  had  paid  for  a  seat  in 
any  pew  for  the  privilege  of  worshipping,  because 
the  vergers  shifted  me  twice.  The  singing, 
chanting,  and  effect  of  light  and  shade  upon 
the  stained  windows,  were  as  realistic  and  artistic 
as  anything  I  have  seen  and  heard  in  a  theatre. 

G  2 


84  LOW    SOCIETY 

The  preacher,  a  pale  young  man  in  a  flowing  robe, 
and  with  a  double  name,  evidently  thought  him- 
self inspired  in  the  pulpit,  and  consequently  the 
audience  thought  him  inspired,  too.  He  spoke 
in  a  soft,  well -modulated  voice  for  about  twenty 
minutes,  and  looked  at  his  watch  twice,  in  case 
he  might  be  boring  us  ;  because  church-goers 
don't  care  to  be  cheated  out  of  more  than  their 
regulation  twenty  minutes  in  one  week.  He  told 
us  our  whole  duty  to  God  and  to  man,  he  told  us 
to  succour  the  needy  and  chastise  the  flesh  ;  and 
then  the  audience  gave  a  gentle  '  Ha  I  '  and  rustle 
of  relief,  as  he  turned  and  went  home  to  his  three- 
course  dinner  at  the  Rectory,  with  wine  and 
walnuts  and  shilling  magazines  to  follow.  And 
the  organ  pealed  out  as  if  he  had  done  a  noble 
thing,  and  the  audience  a  nobler  still  in  being  so 
orthodox  and  sincere  as  to  leave  their  servants 
hard  at  work  while  they  attended  Divine  Service. 
It  was  a  nice,  comfortable,  perfumed,  gentlemen's 
religion,  hailing  from  Rome.  I  don't  know  what 
the  preacher  could  or  would  have  said  if  in  front 
of  him  had  sat  five  hundred  famished  and  desper- 
ate unemployed.  I  expect  he  would  have  told 
them  that  they  had  come  short  in  the  sight  of  God, 
and  must  bear  their  punishment  accordingly — 
and  then  instructed  his  vergers  to  have  the  church 
cleaned  out.  But  let  me  draw  your  attention  to 
page  two  of  this  pamphlet " 

He  was  tapped  on  the  shoulder.  **  The  guv 'nor 
says,  would  you  mind  goin'  on  to  the  next  house, 
matey?  " 

He  gathered  up  his  literature,  smiled,  and  went. 
He  was  used  to  it. 


LOW    SOCIETY  85 

**  But  he's  right,"  Casswade  declared.  **  They're 
the  very  words  I  used,  believe  me  or  not." 

"  No  doubt.  There's  bunkum  in  everything,  if 
you  look  for  it,"  coldly  explained  the  butcher's 
man  from  round  the  corner,  who  resented  having 
the  argument  lifted  bodily  out  of  his  hands. 
"You  expect  it.  When  the  Bishop  goes  for  his 
trip  to  the  South  o'  France,  he  makes  no  bones 
about  it — he  admits  all  his  talk  about  the  needle - 
eye  and  the  camel  is  all  Sunday  bunkum.  So 
does  your  big  shopkeeper,  who  goes  to  church 
on  Sundays  and  has  to  tell  business  lies  to  cus- 
tomers all  the  week  or  put  up  his  shutters. 
There's  bunkum,  I  always  hold,  in  the  very  idea 
that  you  can  go  on  sinning  so  long  as  you  repent 
each  time,  because  it  shows  religion  don't  really 
alter  a  man  at  all.  We  live  on  bunkum,  same  as 
nations  do  one  with  the  other.  We're  told  these 
actresses  marry  noblemen  out  o'  pure  love,  and 
we  take  it  in — till  they're  divorced.  We're  told 
it's  sacred  for  people  to  get  married,  although  we 
know  most  of  'em  '11  be  biting  and  scratching  in  a 
few  months.  We're  expected  to  think  M.P.'s  and 
County  Councillors  work  for  love  of  their  fellow- 
men,  although  we  know  that  few  of  'em  'ud  dare 
show  their  books.  And  there  you  are  I  It's  all 
kid.  I'm  kidding  you,  and  you're  kidding  me, 
at  the  present  moment — if  we  liked  to  own  it. 
We'd  sooner  not." 

Casswade  drained  his  glass  and  struck  a  match. 
"  You're  a  bloomin'  fool,"  he  observed.  "  That's 
what  you  are." 

••  Oh  1  "  the  other  said,  limply.     "  And  why  ?  " 

"'Cause   you  are.      Ain't    that    good   enough? 


86  LOW    SOCIETY 

You  look  it,  and  you  talk  like  it.  If  you  know 
anythin'  at  all,  you  know  there's  alius  two  sets  o' 
people  in  the  world,  and  alius  will  be.  There's 
the  kidder,  and  the — the *' 

"  Kidd^^,"   suggested  someone,   softly. 

"  Exactly,"  affirmed  Casswade,  **  the  kidd^^,  as 
the  legal  fellers  put  it.  One  lot  supports  the  other 
and  pays  every  time.  And  it  rests  with  you  which 
you're  goin'  to  belong  to.  Look  at  me  !  Never 
had  a  day's  schoolin'  in  my  life,  and  never 
believed  in  no  man  till  I'd  got  his  money  and 
his  stamped  agreement.  And  look  at  some  o' 
you  ! — go  and  get  married  on  twenty-five  bob  a 
week,  tie  yourselves  right  up  in  a  knot,  and  then 
come  howlin'  for  pensions  and  free  beer." 

"  I  dunno,"  said  the  other,  obstinately,  realizing 
that  there  was  to  be  no  free  beer  here,  at  all 
events.  **  You've  happened  to  touch  lucky  ;  that's 
all.     Others  have  bad  luck " 

**  Bad  luck  be  blowed.  You  dunno  what  you're 
talkin'  about.  Any  bis'ness  or  tradin'  concern 
busts  up  if  it  don't  build  up  a  reserve  fund,  don't 
it?  Same  with  any  man,  you  idiot.  And  you 
dan't  put  by  a  reserve  if  you  have  to  live  right 
bang  up  to  your  income,  can  you  ?  And  you  ought 
to  be  pole-axed  for  doin'  it,  'cause  you  come  on 
the  rates  and  taxes.  You  wouldn't  come  no  pro- 
digal son  caper  on  me,  any  of  you,  if  I  had  the 
handlin'  o'  the  Exchequer.  I'd  teach  'em,  if 
they  ate  all  their  bloomin'  pie  in  one  day,  they 
could  go  short  the  next." 

**  But  hold  hard  !     Figures  prove " 

**  Figures  don't,"  he  snarled.  '*  There's  the 
man  hisself  ;  and  I  says  to  him,   I  says  :   '  What 


LOW    SOCIETY  87 

d*you  mean  by  goin'  and  havin'  more  wives  and 
kids  than  you  could  afford  to  keep  if  you  was  out 
of  work  or  on  your  back  in  bed,  as  you  might  be 
any  day?'     And  he   says  :    'Bad  luck,   guv'nor.' 

*  No,'  I  says  ;  *  damned  bad  management  and 
selfish  bloomin'  ignorance  ;  and  I  ain't  goin'  to 
pay  for  it.'  Figures  !  They  don't  prove  nothin', 
and  never  did.  Why,  there  was  a  bloomin'  upstart 
nephew  o'  mine  went  and  got  full  up  with  mathe- 
mistics,  or  whatever  you  call  'em.  I  downed  him 
in  one  go.     *  Accordin'  to  you,  you  ass,'  I  says, 

*  if  my  ten  men  can  run  up  a  house  in  six  weeks, 
forty  thousand  men  can  run  it  up  in  ten  seconds 
b'  the  clock.'  '  Certainly,'  he  says,  *  if  the  figures 
prove  it.'  *  Right  you  are,'  I  says.  '  Here's  fifty 
golden  quids  to  a  ha'penny  they  can't,  and  never 
did,  and  never  will.*  And  I've  never  set  eyes 
on  him  again  ;  and  don't  want  to.  G'night 
all." 

He  went  truculently  out. 

**  It  wouldn't  surprise  me  in  the  least  to  hear 
Mr.  Casswade  was  in  love,"  said  the  bar -lady 
thoughtfully,  as  she  looked  in  his  tankard.  "  The 
back  of  his  neck  was  that  red  !  " 

So  or  not,  Mr.  Casswade  turned  the  key  in  his 
door  considerably  earlier  than  usual.  Miss  Pugh 
hastily  threw  off  the  old-maidish  shawl  she  had 
around  her  shoulders,  and  ran  forward  from  the 
kitchen  to  diagnose  the  signs. 

**  Here's  your  slippers,  all  nice  and  warm,"  she 
said,  looking  at  his  boots  as  if  she  wished  she 
could  unlace  them  for  him.  "It's  turned  quite 
chilly." 

He  grunted.    He  hadn't  noticed  anything  of  the 


88  LOW    SOCIETY 

kind,  he  said.  She'd  got  no  real  blood  in  her. 
**  Anyone  been?  " 

**  Oh,  yes  !  "  Miss  Pugh  started  almost  guiltily. 
She  had  tied  a  piece  of  cotton  around  her  finger 
to  remind  her,  and  then  forgotten  the  cotton. 
**  Just  before  eight  o'clock — I  took  the  time.  A 
gentleman  called,  to  see  you  about  one  of  the 
houses  he  thought  of  buying." 

Cass  wade  glared  into  space.  "  Just  my  luck," 
he  said.  "Ever  see  anythin'  like  it?  Didn't  he 
leave  any  card?  " 

"No.  I  don't  fancy  he  uses  them,  by  the 
manner  of  him.  He  said  that  he  v^anted  to  know 
particularly  about  the  drains  and  the  ten -pound 
deposit.  In  fact,  he  seemed  very  business-like 
and  emphatic  about  it." 

**  Course  he  was  !  Why  couldn't  you  make 
some  excuse  to  keep  him — talk  nicely  to  him — or 
somethin'  o'  that?"  he  demanded,  impulsively. 
"  What's  the  use  o'  you  bein'  here  at  all?  " 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Casswade  !  "  She  hung  her  head, 
her  hands  moving  over  each  other.  "  How  could 
I,  all  alone  here  ? — and  not  knowing  whether — 
whether  you  would  feel  like  talking  about  drains 
at  that  time  of  night  ?  Besides,  he  had  a  young 
person  with  him,  waiting  at  the  gate.  And — oh, 
whatever  am  I  thinking  of? — he  gave  his  name. 
Hungerford  !  " 

"  Hungerford  ?  "  Mr.  Casswade,  down  on  one 
knee  to  see  to  his  boots,  breathed  unusually  hard, 
'*  Hungerford?  " 

"  Yes  1     Can't  you — let  me  see  if  I  can " 

**  Get  away,"  he  growled.  Behind  his  sudden 
misgiving  as   to   a    deal    about    to    be    cancelled. 


LOW    SOCIETY  89 

dawned  a  vague  glimmer  of  suspicion.  **  What 
did  he  look  like?"  he  asked,  shakily.  *' You 
must  know  that." 

**  Well,  he  was  rather  short  and  slight  and 
ordinary  looking,  with  a  bowler  hat  and  no  mous- 
tache worth  the  name — and  freckled,"  Miss  Pugh 
said,  ticking  off  the  items  earnestly  on  her  fingers. 
"  And  the  person  at  the  gate  was  biggish  and 
florid — too  stout  in  the  bust  to  be  a  lady — with 
a  large  straw  hat  on  the  back  of  her  head  ;  and 
she  kept  pulling  a  handkerchief  about  in  her 
hands.  I  heard  her  giggle  as  they  walked 
off " 

Mr.  Casswade  bounced  upright  precipitately, 
banged  the  front -parlour  door  open,  went  in,  and 
banged  it  behind  him.  Her  blood  running  cold. 
Miss  Pugh  stood  and  listened  to  an  unbottling  of 
wrath  as  unbridled  and  ungodly  as  it  was  un- 
intelligible. Striding  up  and  down  in  the  dark, 
Mr.  Casswade  bumped  against  the  furniture, 
kicked  it  ferociously  out  of  his  way,  and  turned 
to  kick  it  again  and  again  in  sheer  spite.  It 
lasted  fully  three  minutes  ;  and  no  bull  let  loose 
in  the  room  could  have  accomplished  in  the  time 
more  splintering  and  rending  and  crashing  than 
the  sounds  indicated. 

As  Mr.  Casswade  emerged,  mopping  his  face, 
someone  knocked  anxiously  at  the  front  door. 
He  flung  it  open. 

**  Whatever  *s  the  matter?"  It  was  the  next- 
door  neighbour,  with  an  apron  over  her  head,  and 
looking  pale  and  indignant  as  she  strove  to  peer 
past  him.  "  It*s  beyond  bearing.  I  made  sure 
you  had  forgotten  yourself  and  were  knocking 
somebody   about." 


90  LOW    SOCIETY 

**  You  did?  You  go  home  and  pat  your  own 
butter/*  roared  Casswade,  **  or  it'll  come  true. 
Any  thin'  more  to   say?" 

"  Only  that  you  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  your- 
self, Mr.  Casswade.  I'll  go  as  I  choose,  and 
when  I  choose.     I  pity  that  poor  Miss  Pugh." 

"You  do,  do  you?  Hi  !  "  Casswade  turned 
and  directed  his  roar  into  the  kitchen.  **  Come 
and  show  yourself.  D'you  hear?"  And  Miss 
Pugh  advanced  in  trepidation,  trying  to  smile 
apologetically  at  the  person  from  next  door. 
"  Now,  then,  tell  this  interferin'  old  hussy  to  clear 
out.     Go  on  I  " 

**  Clear  out,"  gasped  Miss  Pugh,  falteringly. 

**  Agin  !  She  can't  hear  that.  Rub  it  right 
into  her  1  " 

**  Clear  out,"  repeated  Miss  Pugh,  in  a  forced 
shriek.  And  Mr.  Casswade  slammed  the  door. 
**  I'll  show  'em,"  he  muttered,  as  Miss  Pugh  made 
an  unsteady  rush  for  the  staircase  and  her  room. 
**  And  as  for  you,"  he  breathed,  straining  out  his 
hands  to  clutch  an  imaginary  George  Baversham, 
**  when  I've  done  with  you,  there  won't  be  a  bone 
in  you  worth   marryin'." 


CHAPTER    IX 

**  Isn't  it  all  strange  —  and  wonderful  —  and 
beautiful  I  "  Ella's  voice  came  hushed  and  far- 
away from  the  pillow -depths  in  which  her  brown 
little  head  was  sunk. 

**  Yes,  dear,"  Jim  Hungerfdrd  answered,  with 
man's  brevity,  from  the  depths  of  his  own.  **  It 
ought  to  be." 

She  gave  a  quivering  little  sigh.  Presently 
she  slid  her  hand  over  the  coverlet  to  find  his, 
and  hold  it  tightly.  It  was  a  woman's  way — 
Ella's  way — of  asking  whether  God,  having  given 
her  such  happiness,  could  ever  mean  to  take  it 
away. 

This  morning  sun,  streaming  into  their  room 
at  the  new  villa,  had  awakened  them.  It  was 
such  warm,  golden,  greeting  radiance  that  it  had 
held  them  both  silent  under  its  spell  for  a  time. 
Ella  lay  and  watched  her  curtains — her  own — and 
thought  how  ethereally  they  stirred  in  the  breeze 
from  the  open  window,  and  how  nice  they  must 
look  from  the  outside.  Jim,  as  content  as  any  man 
could  ever  wish  to  be  on  this  earth,  lay  and  thought 
sleepily  of  his  breakfast  and  his  future  j)lans. 
The  little  clock  on  the  mantel -shelf  ticked  away 
cheerfully. 

"  Why,  it's  Saturday,"  Ella's  reflective  whisper 
came  again,  presently.     **  We  have  been  married 


92  LOW    SOCIETY 

a  week.  A  whole  week,  Boy  I  Can  you  believe 
it  ?  "  She  always  called  him  her  **  boy,"  perhaps 
because  she  knew  him  to  be  as  strong,  as  silent,  as 
manly  a  man  as  any  woman  had  ever  led  by 
sweetness. 

'*  Yes,  a  week,"  he  said.  He  had  been  mentally 
counting  up  the  bundles  of  wood  his  unpractised 
hands  had  used  in  kindling  the  fire.  Unsuspected 
domestic  talents  had  been  discovered  in  him.  "  I 
really  think,"  he  added,  **  I  ought  to  begin  turning 
up  the  garden  and  getting  in  some  seeds  of  some 
sort  before  the  frosts  come  on.     Eh,  dear?  " 

**  But  isn't  it  too  late?  "  Ella  queried,  wonder- 
ingly.     **  Nothing  grows  in  winter,  does  it  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  he  reminded  her,  confidently. 
**  Cabbages  and  things.  At  least,  you  buy  them  in 
winter  ;  so  they  come  from  somewhere." 

**  I  rather  think,  Boy,"  Ella  said,  after 
considerable  reflection,  "  they  plant  them  in 
Spring.  I  feel  sure  of  it.  Whatever  will  you 
do?" 

"  Experiment,"  he  said,  bravely.  '*  If  they 
don*t  come  up — but  they  will.  I  fancy  they  must, 
in  this  new  soil.  You  heard  what  Casswade  said. 
Hungry,  dear?     I  am." 

He  kissed  the  little  brown  head,  and  sprang  out 
of  bed.  Ten  minutes  later  the  sound  of  his  quiet 
whistling  and  the  scent  of  coffee  came  up  to  her. 
**  Bless  him  !  "  she  whispered  to  herself.  Then 
she  put  up  both  hands  to  her  face  and  seemed 
to  be  praying  silently  for  him  or  for  herself. 
Tears  were  drying  upon  smiles  as  she  began  to 
dress.  She  remembered  that  each  morning  he 
had  improved  by  about  five  minutes  in  the  matter 


LOW    SOCIETY  93 

of  preparing  breakfast.  He  took  a  delight  in  the 
performance.  Till  now,  as  Ella  was  always  trying 
to  put  out  of  her  memory,  he  had  had  no  glimpse 
of  the  inner  working  of  the  domestic  machine. 
Paid  servants  had  been  at  his  beck  and  call  ; 
and  a  lordly,  imperious  woman  had  held  it  to  be 
utterly  derogatory  in  a  *'  gentleman  "  to  soil  his 
hands.  But  this  was  something  to  be  mutually 
forgotten.  From  last  Saturday  the  new  life  had 
begun. 

Breakfast  was  laid  in  the  rear  apartment  below 
which,  in  Casswade's  plan,  was  marked  **  dining- 
room,"  and  which,  for  size,  undeniably  conformed 
to  his  description  as  "bijou."  Jim  had  a  large  white 
shell -pattern  cup,  and  Ella  a  similar  small  one,  the 
two  comprising,  with  a  pair  of  plates  to  match, 
what  Ella  proudly  called  her  coffee -service.  With 
the  glass  doors  swung  wide,  the  Essex  mist  quite 
lifted,  the  birds  singing  at  their  loudest,  and  the 
sun  shining  over  all,  the  little  villa  undoubtedly 
seemed  value  for  money.  They  sipped  their  coffee, 
and  ate  their  toast,  with  now  and  then  a  quiet  word, 
and  now  and  then  a  little  smile  from  Jim  when 
Ella  put  out  her  hand  to  touch  him,  as  if  to  make 
sure  he  was  really  there.  Then  Jim  lit  his  briar, 
sat  back,  and  looked  critically  along  the  grass - 
coated  garden-beds,  with  an  eye  to  their  growing 
capacity  ;  while  Ella  glanced  around  at  the  deli- 
cate honeysuckle  design  of  the  wall-paper. 

**  Oh,  look  !  "  she  cried  suddenly,  her  hands 
coming  together.  *'  A  patch  of  white — the  lovely 
pattern  is  all  gone.  And  there — and  there  !  Jim  I  " 
She  rose  in  dismay.      '*  My  honeysuckle  I  " 

**  It's  all  right,"  he  said,  soothingly.     '*  It  will 


94  LOW    SOCIETY 

come  again,  I  expect.  That's  nothing  serious." 
He  looked  a  little  higher  still,  and  saw  a  ziz-zag 
fissure  in  the  ceiling-plaster  that  had  not  seemed 
noticeable  yesterday.  He  looked  discreetly  away 
again,  and  smoked  hard.  **  I  should  take  Cass- 
wade's  word  for  it  that  the  house  is  perfectly 
dry,"  he  urged.  '*  Casswade's  blufif,  but  he's  a 
good  sort,  I  shall  always  think." 

Ella  stood  a  minute  gazing  at  him,  and  then 
walked  across  to  a  book -case  in  the  corner.  She 
took  down  a  bound  book  of  "  poets  "  that  had 
been  placed  against  the  wall  within — and  then 
another — and  held  them  mutely  out  for  him  to 
see.  They  were  dotted  with  thick  green  spots. 
Her  lip  quivered.  While  she  tried  to  smile,  the 
rush  of  tears  came.  Hungerford  knew  by  now 
what  a  tangle  of  sensitive  fibres  made  up  his 
Ella's  body  and  being.  He  simply  smoothed  her 
forehead,  kissed  her,  and  went  on  looking  at  the 
garden. 

**  Yes,  a  mock-orange-blossom  bush  would  look 
really  well  just  there,"  he  said,  pointing.  "  Just 
there  at  the  corner — we  must  have  one." 

"Would  it?"  She  came  to  his  shoulder,  to 
see,  her  voice  resolutely  steadying.  "  To  remind 
us  always — yes  I  Would  it  be  very  expensive, 
dear? — that  and  the  other  things  you  mean  to 
buy?" 

**  Oh,  no  1  An  outlay  of  a  sovereign,  I  should 
think — "  He  checked  himself.  It  was  surpris- 
ing how  the  value  of  a  sovereign  seemed  to  have 
increased  just  lately.  "  Come  and  look  at  the 
front  room,"  he  suggested,  as  a  distraction. 

They   went    in.      The    same    disturbing    blank 


LOW    SOCIETY  95 

patches  were  visible  on  the  walls  here — just  as  if 
an  enemy  had  been  stealthily  at  work  in  the 
night . 

**  H*m,"  Jim  said.  **  I'll  mention  it  to  Cass- 
wade.  After  all,  it  may  be  only  a  trifle,  due  to 
the  atmosphere."  He  looked  through  the  cur- 
tains towards  Cass  wade's  portable  "  office  "  at 
the  street -end.  It  was  apparently  still  closed  ; 
Casswade  had  never  claimed  to  be  an  early  riser. 
**  I  have  never  caught  a  glimpse  of  Casswade's 
wife  yet,"  occurred  to  him,  incidentally.  '*  Have 
you,  dear?  " 

**  Why,  no,  I  haven't,"  Ella  said,  surprised  her- 
self.    **  I  wonder  if  she  is  nice." 

**  I  wonder,"  Jim  repeated,  with  a  laugh. 
"  Bother  the  walls  I  Come  out  into  the  sunshine, 
dear  I — we  shall  not  have  much  more  of  it.  Come 
along,  my  honeymoon  girl." 

He  wanted  her  to  be  quite  happy  and  oblivious 
of  secret  inner  misgivings  that  existed.  Putting 
his  arm  round  her,  he  drew  her  along  as  far  as 
the  swing  doors.  There  the  arm  dropped.  It 
meant  that  both,  without  being  shy,  felt  a  certain 
constraint  in  the  stark  openness  of  the  treeless 
rear  regions.  In  the  interval  of  three  weeks 
Casswade  had  reluctantly  parted  with  three  more 
of  his  houses,  two  out  of  the  three  being  already 
occupied  ;  so  that  there  were  lingering,  curious 
glances  now  from  both  left  and  right  at  the  dark, 
silent  young  man  and  his  elfin  little  woman.  The 
gardens  being  long  and  narrow,  and  the  dividing 
fences  extremely  low,  the  sense  of  standing  out 
high  and  dry  as  a  target  for  inspection  from  all 
the  windows  had  not  yet  worn  off.     In  Hungerford 


96  LOW    SOCIETY 

it  induced  an  unconscious  attitude  of  grave  aloof- 
ness ;  in  Ella,  just  as  unconsciously,  it  evoked  a 
delicious  assumption  of  womanly  dignity  and  pride 
of  wifehood.  The  neighbours  had  already  begun 
to  ask  one  another  whether  the  man  had  any 
settled  employment,  what  the  interior  of  their 
home  might  be  like,  and  whether  they  would 
fetch  their  own  shopping  or  have  it  delivered 
with  refinement  at  the  door.  As  Jim  and  his  Ella 
only  went  out  very  quietly  after  dusk,  the  neigh- 
bours were  so  far  somewhat  baffled.  But  it  was 
only  reasonable  to  expect  that  they  would  at  once 
adapt  themselves  to  the  atmosphere — miscalled  by 
some  practical  people  snobbery — which  stamps  and 
elevates  the  average  street  of  new,  convenient 
villas  anywhere. 

**  By  this  time  next  year,"  Jim  was  saying  in  a 
low  voice,  **  we  shall  have  grown  some  clematis 
high  upon  a  trellis  on  both  sides." 

"  Do  you  think  they  will  like  it  ?  "  Ella  whis- 
pered, as  she  pictured  a  cloistered  seclusion. 

**  Like  it?  I  shall  not  consult  them,"  he  said, 
his  back,  or  his  sense  of  proprietorship,  "  up  "  at 
once.  "  Leave  that  to  me,  Ella.  And  here,"  he 
went  on,  indicating  the  centre  of  the  pathway, 
"  I  thought  of  having  a  bower  put  up,  with  crimson 
ramblers  trailing.  On  each  side  of  that,  again, 
where  the  sun  strikes  so  fully  all  day,  I  might 
put  down  a  cucumber  frame,  so  that  if  one  failed 
for  any  reason  the  other  would  succeed.  And 
there — and  there — I  shall  plant  the  fruit-trees. 
I  got  a  gardening -book  for  two  shillings  which 
tells  everything." 

He  had  a  brand-new,  business-like  garden -fork 


LOW    SOCIETY  97 

over  his  shoulder  :  it  being  curious,  but  true,  that 
whereas  the  professional  gardener  invariably  uses 
a  spade  for  elementary  work,  the  amateur  or 
suburban  delver  as  invariably  relies  upon  the 
pronged  implement. 

**  Yes,  dear  ;  but,"  Ella  put  in  suddenly,  after 
thinking,  "have  you  forgotten?  How — I  mean, 
where — should  I  dry  the  linen — the  washing — in 
that  case?  " 

"  Washing?  "  he  repeated.  "  What  washing? 
No  wife  of  mine  will  do  any  washing  of  clothes. 
Did  you  think " 

Indoors,  she  would  have  put  a  hand  over  his 
lips  ;  out  here,  she  had  to  be  content  with  pressing 
his  arm  to  check  the  outburst . 

*'  All  right,  dear,  we  won't  talk  of  that  now. 
Cucumbers  and  ramblers  1  Won't  it  look  beauti- 
ful ? — except  that  I  never  eat  cucumbers — they 
make  me  ill." 

**  You  don't  ?  "  He  stared  gravely.  **  Neither 
do  I.  That  settles  the  cucumber -frames,  then. 
What  shall  we  grow?  I  wonder  whether  Cass- 
wade  would  put  us  up  a  greenhouse — for  grapes  ? 
You  like   grapes,   I   know." 

"  Boy,  I  think  you  must  come  away  from  the 
garden,"  Ella  said  presently,  with  her  simul- 
taneous smile  and  lip -quiver.  '*  Yes,  dear,  we 
must  come  to  that — we  must  talk  of  it — how  we 
are  going  to  grow  our  bread-and-butter.  We 
mustn't  be  like  two  children  wandering  in  a  day- 
dream any  longer.  I'm  going  to  be  very  practical 
now,  and  think  hard,  and  help  you.  For  soon. 
Boy,  long  before  we  expect  him,  the  tax-collector 
will  be  knocking  at  the  door.     And  you  are  to  be 

L.S.  H 


98  LOW    SOCIETY 

the  bread-winner,  and  you  have  never  yet  known 
what  that  means — as  I  have.     You're  not  angry  !  " 

Angry  ? — No  !  But  two  people  in  love  are 
one  only  in  fond  theory  ;  and  Ella  had  set  herself 
to  feel  the  pulse  of  his  moods  gently  on  all  occa- 
sions, knowing  wisely  that  the  best  of  men  are 
only  the  best  in  the  hands  of  a  woman  who  can 
lead  and  never   drive. 

"  I'll  leave  you  to  dig  a  little,"  she  said, 
**  while  I  sweep  away  and  prepare  dinner.  After 
that — after  that  we  will  talk,  and  plan  out  what 
is  to  be  done.     Now,  work  away  I  " 

She  ran  gaily  indoors.  Jim  selected  his  spot, 
and  stuck  the  fork  manfully  into  it,  turning  up 
with  those  delicate  white  hands  in  a  few  minutes 
an  astonishing  amount  of  varied  matter,  including 
virgin  soil.  From  time  to  time  Ella  paused  to 
watch  his  strenuous  career,  with  a  little  inward 
smile.  Every  small  action  and  detail,  trifling 
to  the  neighbours,  was  vital  and  important  to  her, 
because  it  formed  a  link  in  the  chain  of  the  new 
life — their   life    together. 

Pretty  soon  his  shadow  darkened  the  "  dining- 
room  "  doorway.  He  had  only  come  for  his  pipe, 
he  explained  ;  but  he  stayed,  admitting  presently 
that  the  ground  was  harder  than  he  had  thought, 
and  that  the  digging  of  it  all  might  conceivably  be 
a  labour  of  days.  He  would  not  go  as  far  as  to 
say  that  hi3  back  ached  in  the  least. 

"  And,  of  course,  dear,"  Ella  took  her  oppor- 
tunity to  remind  him  soothingly,  "  if  you  dig  all 
that  grass  and  weed  in,  it  will  most  likely  come 
up  again  and  spoil  your  crops — our  crops." 

"  Isn't    there    such    a    thing    sold    as    a    weed 


LOW    SOCIETY  99 

killer?"  he  reflected,  smoking  a  trifle  gloomily 
over  the  prospect.     "  I  think  there  must  be." 

**  Yes  ;  but  —  the  money  —  the  money  —  the 
money,  Boy  I  "  she  whispered  in  his  ear,  darting 
away. 

Some  time  after  noon,  when  the  veering  sun 
had  thrown  a  cool  shadow-line  across  the  swing- 
doors,  and  the  dinner -cloth  was  cleared  away, 
they  sat  down  determinedly  for  the  talk  upon  ways 
and  means.  He  would  have  taken  her  upon  his 
knee,  with  his  arm  around  her  ;  but  she  was  true 
to  her  practical  intentions,  and  sharpened  a  pencil 
and  prepared  a  sheet  of  paper  with  great  care, 
and  sat  apart.  Whenever  she  wanted  to  spring  up 
and  kiss  his  pale,  intent  face,  she  turned  to  this 
paper  and  wrote  some  cryptic  symbol.  She  had  to 
know  that,  although  he  would  lay  down  his  life 
for  her  unhesitatingly,  it  was  true  that  he  had 
never  been  called  upon  to  work  for  his  own 
support  until  now. 

*'  What,"  she  began,  to  test  his  ideas,  "  do  you 
think  is  the  smallest  amount  I  can  keep  house 
upon?    Try  and  think." 

Jim  thought  and  thought .  The  little  dark  curls 
over  his  forehead  contracted  again  and  again,  but 
each  mental  estimate  varied  so  considerably  that 
he  hesitated  to  declare  them.  It  had  been  suffi- 
cient for  him  so  far  to  realize  that,  in  her  hands, 
not  a  penny  of  his  prospective  income  would  ever 
be    wasted. 

**  You  make  a  rough  guess,  dear,"  he  said,  at 
length  ;  "  and  I'll  see  whether  it  tallies  with 
mine." 

*'  There    it    is,"     Ella     replied,     producing    a 

H    2 


loo  LOW    SOCIETY 

document    she   had    secretly    and    conscientiously 
prepared. 

Much  impressed,  Jim  inspected  it.  While  visibly 
astounded  at  the  number  of  small  items  included 
as  essential,  he  pronounced  the  whole  a  work  of 
art.  "  Only,"  he  added,  critically,  "  you  have 
allowed  no  margin  at  all  for  your  dress  and  such 
things." 

*'  There  won't  be  any,  dear,"  she  said,  smiling 
and  looking  away.  *'  Not  yet,  at  any  rate.  That 
comes  under  the  heading  of  '  Contrivance.'  But 
you  don't  understand  that  yet.  Now — "  she 
became  very  serious,  and  leaned  toward  him — "  I 
know  what  has  been  in  your  mind  all  along,  and  I 
honour  you  for  it  ;  but  I  want  to  say  here  and  now 
that  I  am  not  going  to  allow  it  as  long  as  an 
alternative    is    left." 

**  Go  on,"  he  whispered. 

**  You  were  going  to  be  too  brave.  I  know  1 
You  were  going  to  efface  yourself,  go  boldly 
among  your  father's  City  friends,  and  ask  a  berth 
in  one  or  other  of  their  offices .  You  w6uld  get  it  ; 
but  the  position,  after  what  has  been,  would  be  too 
humiliating — too  much  to  ask  of  you  even  for  love. 
I  don't  ask  it,  Jim  !  "  She  rose,  and  laid  her  hand 
on  his  drooped  head.  "  You  have  given  up  that 
circle — that  life — for  love  of  me — because  it  was 
either  that  or  .  .  .  There,  no  more — no  more  of 
that  !  You  will  get  the  newspaper,  dear,  and 
answer  an  ordinary  advertisement.  If  that  fails, 
and  others  fail,  then  we  will  think  again.  Only 
when  the  worst  has  come  to  the  worst  shall  you 
look  in  that  direction.  See  how  I  love  you.  Boy  ! 
I  would  spare  you  anything  ;  I  ask  nothing  more  in 


LOW    SOCIETY  TOT 

life  than  to  keep  our  little  home  together,  no 
matter  how  I  contrive,  so  long  as  you  want  me  and 
love  me.  .  .  .  Now,  we  have  not  yet  thought  of 
coals,  laundry,  gas,  house-repairs — oh,  and  ever  so 
many  thing^s.*' 

**  My  word  I  "  Jim  slowly  put  down  his  pipe. 
It  seemed  as  if  in  very  fairness  and  sheer  necessity 
he  must  give  up  tobacco  on  the  spot.  He  looked 
at  his  wife  as  if  she  were  a  financial  genius — as, 
indeed,  the  contriving  wife  must  often  be.  And 
Ella's  filmed  eyes  danced  with  the  pleasure  that  is 
akin  to  pain.  There  was  an  ordeal  to  be  faced, 
and  it  rested  upon  her  to  carry  him  through  it 
without  flinching  or  failure. 

It  lasted  until  the  early  dusk  had  crept  across 
the  room.  Hungerford  rose  in  the  silence  to 
light  the  gas.  If  he  was  dazed,  he  had  a  new 
admiration  for  his  elfin  brown  girl  that  was  not 
likely  to  fade.  He  had  realized  in  those  hours  all 
the  wonderful  resources  of  a  woman's  mind  when 
brought  to  bear  upon  the  problem.  Secretly  he 
marvelled,  and  felt  somehow  ashamed  of  the  mere 
physical  strength  which  was  supposed  to  make 
him  the  superior  partner. 

**  Wait  a  moment,"  Ella  said,  a  little  breath- 
lessly, catching  at  his  arm.  She  lifted  herself 
on  tiptoe,  to  look  beyond  the  dark  depths  of  their 
garden -strip.  Her  voice  went  down.  "  There 
he  is,"  she  whispered.  "  Every  night — and  again 
to-night.     There  he  is." 

They  stood  still  together,  watching,  ringed 
about  by  the  endless  world,  but  forgetting  it  all 
for  a  time — all  but  the  patch  of  open  ground 
beyond  their  rear  fence.      It  was  the  site  of  the 


102  LOW    SOCIETY 

new  block,  upon  which  Casswade  had  thrown  down 
his  hasty  length  of  pavement,  marked  out  the 
plots,  cemented  the  foundations,  and  commenced 
to  run  up  more  brick  house -walls. 

Out  there  the  inevitable  thin  mist  had  already 
begun  to  crawl  up  as  from  nowhere.  It  was  just 
pierced  at  intervals  by  pale  suggestions  of  light 
reflected  from  the  electric  street-lamps.  And 
through  this  silent  nebulosity,  from  square  of 
masonry  to  square  of  masonry  and  back  again, 
moved  the  figure  of  a  man. 

Nothing  in  his  shape  or  his  movements  sug- 
gested conscious  stealth — only  a  sort  of  mental 
detachment  from  the  rest  of  his  fellow -creatures, 
and  an  air  of  doing  something  essential  which 
might  not  be  for  anyone  else  to  understand. 

Sometimes  he  stooped,  picked  up  something, 
and  seemed  to  lay  it  carefully  on  a  spot  selected 
for  accumulation  of  trifles.  Then  he  would  dis- 
appear behind  a  low  wall,  to  reappear  again  with 
an  air  of  having  achieved  a  purpose.  The  sound 
of  his  footfalls  was  not  audible  :  seen  more  than 
once  at  his  occupation,  as  Hungerford  and  his  Ella 
had  seen  him,  he  appeared  to  grow  into  the  land- 
scape— to  become  the  spirit -concrete  of  the  new 
building-stretch  after  dusk.  Now  he  tested  a 
scaffold-pole  carefully.  Now  he  tapped  at  a  por- 
tion of  a  wall,  stepping  back  to  survey  it  narrowly 
from  all  points — having  at  such  moments  the 
appearance  of  conscientious  responsibility  —  a 
master -man  come  to  examine  results  after  the 
workers  had  gone.  To  and  fro  he  went,  examin- 
ing the  very  bricks .  Then  he  went  busily  to  work 
again  upon  the  odds  and  ends  littering  the  trodden 


LOW    SOCIETY  103 

sward  around — he  was  **  tidying  up,'*  as  a  house- 
maid tidies  a  room  after  a  party.  The  very 
steady  semblance  of  purpose  in  his  purposeless 
movements  breathed  an  indescribable  fascination — 
to  Hungerford  and  his  Ella,  at  least,  who  had 
built  up  their  nightly  glimpses  of  the  man  at  his 
work  into  one  whole  to  which  they  would  give  no 
name. 


CHAPTER    X 

Eight  o'clock  on  a  Saturday  night  marks  as 
nearly  as  possible  the  high  tide  of  human  activity 
and  booming  sound  in  Barking  Old  Town.  And 
it  was  about  this  time  that  the  new  tenants  at 
No.  Nine,  Mandalay  Gardens,  went  quietly  from 
the  house  and  turned  in  that  direction. 

Some  of  the  neighbours  saw  them  start,  and 
peered  from  behind  blinds  for  some  evidence  of 
the  shopping -bag  which  would  brand  them  as 
being  in  hopelessly  straitened  circumstances. 
But  beyond  the  fact  that  the  tall,  dark  and  silent 
young  man  wore  a  cloth  cap  instead  of  a  hat — in 
itself  a  flippant,  cheap  and  slovenly  modern  habit 
— there  was  nothing  upon  which  legitimate  curi- 
osity had  a  fair  chance  to  feed.  The  lady  at 
No.  Eleven  resolved  to  watch  and  see  if  the  front 
steps  were  surreptitiously  cleaned  down  about  mid- 
night, and  whether  the  man  slid  out  to  some 
questionable  night  employment  at  about  the  same 
hour.  Fugitive  habits  in  any  suburban  household 
engender  suspicion  as  a  matter  of  course. 

It  was  Jim  who  had  suggested  a  stroll  into  the 
heart  of  the  hubbub.  Hitherto  their  nightly  walks 
together  had  taken  them  quite  away  from  it  to 
saunter  in  silent  happiness  along  the  semi -rural 
lanes  that  make  Barking  Town  something  of  a 
surprise  to  pedestrians  who  emerge  suddenly  from 
obscurity   upon   its   blaze    of    lights    and    roar    of 


LOW    SOCIETY  105 

traffic.  But  the  day's  momentous  debate,  he 
thought,  had  made  an  enlivening  variant  desirable. 
This  meant  that  there  was  a  look  in  Ella*s  eyes 
suggestive  of  nerve -tension. 

Following  the  track  of  the  electric  cars  for 
something  like  a  mile,  they  found  themselves 
absorbed  by  the  marketing  maelstrom.  This  was 
an  environment  comparatively  novel  for  Hunger - 
ford,  if  not  for  his  Ella.  The  sharp  contrasts  awed 
and  held  him  ;  the  sights  and  sounds  amused 
him  no  less  deeply.  He  named  the  place  '*  Little 
Babylon  "  at  once.  Every  few  minutes  seemed  to 
provide  material  for  a  new  and  entire  spectacular 
drama.  There  was  a  vast  abundance  of  gaiety  and 
cheap  food,  but  it  was  reared  against  a  dark  back- 
ground of  poverty  across  which  flitted  the  shapes 
of  wan,  fierce  women,  brooding  men,  and  bare- 
footed children  who  had  yet  to  hear  of  elemental 
decency.  And  over  all  was  the  ceaseless  strident 
noise  which  sounded  at  a  distance  like  the  sus- 
tained roar  from  a  great  smith's  forge.  The  devil 
can  pick  and  choose  at  leisure  from  the  hindmost 
in  Barking  Town. 

The  fair  at  the  far  side  of  the  triangle  was  in 
full  swing,  the  hoarse  announcements  of  its  pro- 
moters backed  up  by  untiring  strains  from  a  steam 
barrel-organ.  Flanking  the  kerb  in  front  of  the 
fair  was  the  long  line  of  naphtha-lit  stalls,  behind 
which  were  philanthropic  men  who  prepared  and 
sold  at  a  sacrifice  pills  designed  to  arrest  any 
human  disease — others  who  skinned  wild  rabbits 
with  a  celerity  fascinating  to  watch — and  others 
who  had  shipping  orders  from  the  "  King  of 
Egypt  "     for     yet    more     of     their     imperishable 


io6  LOW    SOCIETY 

linoleum  at  one  shilling  per  odd  piece.  The 
crowd,  with  its  mixed  odours,  pressed  and  jostled. 
Sometimes  Jim  Hungerford  shivered  a  little  and 
drew  Ella  away  from  its  contact  ;  sometimes  he 
had  vague  suspicions  that  the  hands  in  his  pockets 
were  not  his  own.  But,  on  the  whole,  he  enjoyed 
it.  And,  throughout,  there  was  the  impassioned 
singing  and  rejoicing  of  the  Salvation  Army  in 
the  centre  to  prove  that  the  saving  of  Barking 
Town  souls  still  rested  on  a  basis  of  hope. 

**  There's  Mr.  Casswade,"  Jim  said,  suddenly. 
**  At  least,  I  think  so." 

"Where?  Oh,  tell  him— tell  him  about  the 
wall-paper  fading  away,"  implored  Ella.  "  Where 
is  he?" 

Passing  figures  had  come  between.  But  Mr. 
Casswade  was  not  easily  obliterated,  even  in  such 
a  crowd.  Presently  Jim  caught  sight  again  of 
the  protuberant  shape  moving  along  with  a  rich, 
deliberate  roll,  and  with  hat  and  cigar  at  a  satis- 
fied angle.  Casswade  it  was.  They  pressed 
forward. 

**  Hullo,"  said  Mr.  Casswade,  loudly  and 
heartily.  **  Who'd  ha'  thought  o'  meetin*  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Hungerford?  Why,  I  ain't  seen  anythin' 
o'  you  for  a  week.  How  do?  I  was  only  sayin' 
to  Josh — that's  my  man — '  They  ain't  got  a  string 
o*  complaints  to  make  about  their  house.'  Well, 
I  never  I  " 

"  As  it  happens,  we  have  one  for  you,"  Hunger- 
ford said,  with  his  quiet  smile. 

'*  Oh  I  "  He  looked  astounded — if  not  wounded. 
"  It's  the  first  I've  ever  had  about  them  houses. 
What  might  it  be?  " 


LOW    SOCIETY  107 

**  You  tell  him,  Ella,"  Jim  said.  '*  You  under- 
stand it  better  than  I." 

And  Ella  breathlessly  poured  out  her  tale,  Cass- 
wade  staring  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  had  never 
heard  the  like  before.  At  the  end,  he  put  his  head 
on  one  side,  extended  his  hand,  and  regarded  her 
sceptically. 

**  Jest  so.  You  don't  mean  to  say,  my  dear 
lady,  that  you  really  think  youVe  got  somethin' 
to  pick  at  in  that?  " 

**  I  do,"  she  averred,  taken  aback.  **  Don't 
you  ?  What  if  it  should  spread  all  over  the 
house?  " 

**  Let  it."  He  pointed  the  cigar  at  her  solemnly. 
"  Whatever  you  do,  don't  attempt  to  stop  it. 
You're  in  luck,  you  two.  Ask  anyone  that  knows. 
It  don't  happen  like  that  once  in  fifty  times  with 
the  best  builder.     You've  pleased  me." 

**  Have  I?  "  asked  Ella,  reduced  to  a  whisper. 

**  Have  you  ?  Why,  can't  you  see  ?  If  that  stray 
touch  o'  damp  left  hadn't  come  out,  it  would  ha' 
remained  in.  And  you're  buyin'  the  house  to 
live  in  for  ninety -nine  years.  You'll  be  there  when 
I'm  dead  and  gone — if  not  forgotten." 

Nothing  had  ever  sounded  more  pregnant  and 
conclusive.  Ella  stared  at  space,  Hungerford  tried 
hard  to  look  as  if  he  only  now  grasped  the  funda- 
mental principle  of  the  building  art. 

**  It's  like  this,  Mr.  Hungerford,"  Casswade 
went  on,  clearly  upset  by  the  mere  suspicion.  **  If 
you  don't  feel  satisfied,  you're  at  liberty  to  sell  the 
house  again  to-morrow  at  your  own  figure,  ain't 
you  ?  I  shan't  stand  in  your  way.  I  wouldn't.  I've 
got  my  reputation  from  end  to  end  o'  Barkin'  to 


io8  LOW    SOCIETY 

keep  up  at  all  costs.  There's  many  little  things  you 
don't  expect  to  understand  about  a  house  all  at 
once — not  even  in  a  week.  Would  you  believe  it, 
people  have  come  to  me  before  now  and  asked 
about  a  crack  in  a  ceilin'.  I'm  tellin'  you  the 
truth.  In  a  new  ceilin',  mind  you  !  I  can't  get 
angry.  I  can  on'y  say  to  'em  :  '  There's  on'y  two 
things  in  the  world  that  don't  crack,  and  that's 
cast  steel  and  a  good  character.'  Why — "  his 
eyes  bulged  almost  tearfully  —  "  I've  got  a 
sovereign  in  my  pocket  now  with  a  crack  in  it. 
Am  I  grumblin'  at  the  Mint  ?  Good  lor',  sir,  no  I 
What  with  the  surveyors,  the  price  o*  buildin' 
material,  the  arrangin'  gratis  of  contracts  for 
people,  and  then  their  worry  over  cracks,  it  takes  a 
modern  builder  all  his  time  to  keep  out  o'  the  mad- 
house. It  does,  Mr.  Hungerford  !  Look  at  me, 
now.  You  might  be  thinkin'  me  a  bloated  mil- 
lionaire. But  it's  all  out  in  bricks  an'  mortar  and 
one  thing  and  another,  and  it  ain't  so  easy  to  get  a 
bit  in  when  you  want  it.  I  don't  mind  tellin' you 
and  Mrs .  Hungerford  here,  as  friends,  that  although 
I've  got  all  them  houses  and  hope  to  have  many 
more,  I'm  pushed  over  and  over  again  to  lay  my 
hands  on  twenty  pounds  cash  to  go  on  with.  B'lieve 
me?" 

*'  I  can,"  Hungerford  said,  with  warmth.  He 
had  swallowed  a  throat -lump,  remembering  his 
own  spontaneous  loan  at  a  nominal  five  per  cent. 
"I'm  only  sorry  if  you  think  that  I " 

**  Not  at  all.  Not  at  all,  my  boy."  He  allowed 
himself  to  melt,  as  his  hand  was  wrung.  **  I 
liked  you  from  the  first,  as  you  liked  me.  I'd  say, 
come  and  have  a  long  drink,  both  of  you — on'y  I 


LOW    SOCIETY  109 

know  you  wouldn't.  But  when  it  comes  to  dealin' 
with  some  o'  these  tuppenny-ha'penny  swells " 

"  Evenin',  Mr.  Casswade.  How's  bis'ness  by 
now?" 

The  voice,  comfortably  familiar,  came  from 
behind  him,  but  he  did  not  turn.  His  face  took  on 
an  odd  mottled  tinge  ;  his  eye  was  fixed.  With  a 
sudden  incoherent  gurgle,  suggestive  of  strangula- 
tion, he  threw  out  his  arms,  forged  a  way  through 
the  crowd,  and  was  gone. 

"  Go  after  him,"  breathed  Ella,  clutching  at 
Jim  anxiously.  "  But  he's  ill,  dear — I  saw  it  in 
his  face.      Go  after  him  I  " 

"Friend  o'  yours,  sir?"  enquired  the  voice. 
And  Hungerford  spun  round. 

"  That  gentleman?  "  He  thought  he  had  never 
known  such  a  free-and-easy  place  as  Barking 
Town  on  Saturday  evening.  "  Well,  yes,  he  is. 
Do  you  know  him?  " 

"  Casswade?  Rather.  It  was  me  who  spoke  to 
him  jest  then." 

"  So«  I  thought,"  Hungerford  said,  staring  back- 
ward again  in  bewilderment.  "I'm  afraid  there's 
something  amiss  with  him." 

"It  did  look  like  it,  didn't  it?"  agreed  the 
other,  reflectively.  He  was  rather  short,  with  a 
freckled  and  determined  but  pleasant  face,  a  bowler 
hat,  and  an  easy  style.  Linked  to  his  arm  was  a 
florid,  robust  young  woman  who  seemed  to  see 
something  unmentionably  funny  in  the  pavement 
at  her  feet.  "  Yes,  I  jest  happened  to  catch  sight 
of  his  back.  And  I'd  been  wantin'  to  see  him 
rather  particularly  about  takin'  a  house.  It'll  be 
too  late  on  Monday." 


no  LOW    SOCIETY 

"  I  see.  What  a  pity — I  know  he  has  several 
on  hand.  I  have  his  private  address,  if  that  is  of 
any  use  to  you." 

*'  Oh,  I  know  his  private  address,  sir,  thank 
you  ;  and  he  knows  mine.  Can't  quite  understand 
him  greasin'  off  in  that  way,  though." 

Ella  had  not  spoken.  Her  wide  blue  eyes  were 
held  by  the  extraordinary  young  person  who  saw 
something  in  the  kerb -line  to  provoke  spasms  of 
soundless  laughter  that  shook  her  corsage. 

**  Half  a  moment,  sir,"  said  the  young  man 
abruptly,  plucking  at  Hungerford's  arm.  **  You'll 
get  trod  on." 

A  public-house  door  close  by  had  swung  out- 
ward. There  was  a  chaotic  sound  of  scuffling, 
and  then  something  was  thrust  out  by  several 
arms  from  the  doorway.  It  went  down  with  a 
crash.  For  a  moment,  as  it  lay  bunched,  it  looked 
more  like  an  animal  than  a  man.  But  it  was  the 
latter — a  man  with  enormous  shoulders  and  the 
face  of  a  white  negro. 

**  Bogie  !  "  yelled  someone.  And  the  crowd 
went  back  to  form  a  ring  at  a  respectful  dis- 
tance which  still  had  a  thrilling  element  of 
uncertainty. 

Bogie  picked  himself  up,  yawned  horribly,  shook 
his  head  as  if  trained  to  fight  with  his  teeth,  stag- 
gered about  a  little  on  unsafe  legs,  and  then  made 
with  precision  at  the  crowd,  striking  out  right  and 
left.  One  of  his  drives  reached  a  child,  and  she 
ran  away  screaming  ;  but  it  took  more  than  such 
a  small  mistake,  on  Saturday  evening,  to  sober  Mr. 
Lawrence.  With  head  lowered,  he  charged  down 
the  street,  followed  by  a  shouting  procession.     His 


LOW    SOCIETY  III 

career  was  infinitely  more  diverting  and  promising 
than  that  of  a  fire-engine. 

'*  And  that's  drink,"  Ella  whispered.  She  had 
gone  unnecessarily  white.  "  Can't  they — can't 
they  do  anything  to  check  it  ?  " 

"  Well,  no,  ma'am,"  volunteered  Baversham, 
lighting  a  cigarette.  "  Least,  they  could,  but 
they  ain't  likely  to  ;  'cause  it  brings  in  jest  about 
one-third  o'  the  country's  revenue,  you  see.  And 
there   you  are." 

"  But— but — "  she  dared,  indignantly,  "  isn't  it 
vile  and  wicked  to  rely  upon  such  a  traffic  for 
gain?  " 

*'  Well,  yes,  ma'am — in  the  publican  it  is,"  he 
said,  puffing  placidly  ;  "  but  not  in  a  Govern- 
ment. That's  how  it  stands.  He's  all  right  ; 
he'll  have  another  quiet  Sunday  in  the  cells." 

**  I  think  we'll  be  going,"  said  Ella,  after  the 
pause  for  recovery.  And,  with  a  "  Good-night  !  " 
she  and  Jim  passed  on. 

**  What  a  strange  young  woman,"  was  all 
Hungerford  permitted  himself  to  remark. 

**  Very,"  said  Ella,  her  lips  setting.  "  I  think 
there  is  something  that  we  do  not  quite  under- 
stand." 

There  was.  At  least,  this  impression  was 
strengthened  when,  of  a  sudden,  Mr.  Casswade 
reappeared  as  from  nowhere  in  their  path.  He 
was  husky,  and  looked  so  furtive  and  flushed 
that  for  a  moment  Ella  suspected  the  ubiquitous 
drink  demon  again. 

**  Here  you  are,"  he  said,  wiping  his  forehead. 
**  You'll  excuse  me  hurryin'  away  like  that  ;  but, 
as  it  happens,  that  was  a  party  I  like  to  avoid — 


112  LOW    SOCIETY 

in  fact,  a  party  that  I  wouldn't  be  found  dead 
with  ;  and  that's  the  bare  truth." 

**  Really  ?  "  said  Hungerford.  "  Why,  we  under- 
stood him  to  say  that  he  was  a  friend  of  yours." 

**  He  did?  "  Casswade  appeared  a  trifle  stag- 
gered. "  Well,  so  he  is,  in  a  way  o'  speakin', 
but  only  in  a  way — you  understand  what  I  mean. 
I  thought  I'd  explain,  in  case  you  didn't.  If  it's 
not  a  rude  question,  Mr.  Hungerford,  I  might  like 
to  know  what  else  he  had  to  say  about  me  ?  " 

Hungerford,  with  a  delicate  intuition,  reflected. 
"  Merely,  I  think,  that  he  had  wanted  to  see  you 
before  Monday  about  a  house.  But  he  has  your 
private  address,  so  that's  all  right." 

**  Ah  I — yes,  that's  all  right,"  said  Casswade, 
drawing  a  careful  breath.  Ella  thought  that  she 
had  never  seen  such  a  succession  of  quaint  tints  in 
a  gentleman's  face  before.  "  Yes,  I  expect  he'll 
call.  I'd  better  hurry  back.  G'night,  sir — g'night, 
ma'am  I  " 

**  There  seems  something  peculiar  in  the  air 
to-night,"  Hungerford  laughed,  as  they  went  on 
again . 

**  There  does,  dear,"  Ella  said,  absently.  Pre- 
sently she  pressed  his  arm  tightly,  with  a  small 
sob.  "  Oh,  I'm  so  grateful  you're  different  from 
all  other  men.  Boy  !  "  shie  whispered.  "  What 
is  this — another  crowd?     I  wouldn't  stop,  dear." 

"  Just  a  minute,"  he  urged.  "  This  seems 
different.      Listen  !  " 

It  was  a  cheap  entertainment,  indeed,  to  those 
who  were  well-fed  and  well -clad.  The  piece 
of  unoccupied  ground  at  the  apex  of  the 
triangle    provided    space    for    a    large    audience. 


LOW    SOCIETY  113 

and  the  little  dried-up  Socialistic,  Saturday- 
night  orator  had  risen  fervidly  to  the  occasion 
once  more.  The  fact  of  his  platform  being  in  the 
centre  was  no  real  drawback  ;  he  had  brought  his 
marionette -like  movements  to  such  perfection  that 
those  in  front  might  depend  upon  catching  the 
first  half  of  every  sentence,  and  those  behind  the 
last.  If  his  respect  for  law  and  authority  appeared 
at  all  scanty  to  the  casual  listener,  it  was  reas- 
suring and  significant  that  the  police  did  not 
seem  disposed  to  interfere. 

**  Oh,  apathy,  apathy  I  *'  he  said,  drawn  up 
quiveringly  on  his  toes.  **  I  am  only  one  of 
hundreds  who  are  giving  up  their  lives  to  the  hope 
of  stirring  your  manhood  into  revolt  ;  but  I  des- 
pair." Round  he  went.  **  Men  of  Barking  Town, 
I  despair  I  "  Back  he  came.  You  could  suspect 
a  revolving  platform.  "  You,  born  of  woman — 
you,  identical  in  Almighty's  sight  with  those 
opulent  hogs  who  scorch  along  our  highways  and 
leave  a  cynical  track  of  death — have  at  least  the 
right  to  exist  in  the  decent  comfort  that  your 
labour  creates  for  others.  But  you  will  not  ask 
even  that.     You  will  not  demand  it " 

**  We  do  I  "  piped  a  dissentient  voice.  And 
the  little  orator  became  still  and  transfixed  its 
owner  with  a  verbal  arrow. 

"You  do?  Prove  it  I  What  have  you  done 
for  your  fellow -men  ?  Come  up  here  and  tell 
us  I  *' 

The  interrupter  apparently  preferred  to  remain 
incog.     But  he  was  to  earn  a  little  fleeting  fame. 

**  This  is  the  type  of  man,"  said  the  orator, 
bitingly,  **  who  mistakes  talk  for  action,  and  desire 

L.s.  I 


114  LOW    SOCIETY 

for  achievement.  This  is  the  type  of  man  who 
would  do  well  stood  in  a  shop -window,  to  show 
off  overcoats.  And  Tm  afraid  I  needn't  go  far 
to  lay  my  hands  on  many  more  like  him — men 
who  are  splendid  shouters,  but  craven  fighters. 
For  let  me  assure  you,  my  friends,  there  is  a  long 
and  bloody  war  before  us,  if  we  are  to  win  back 
from  the  pampered  drones  in  this  land  a  tithe  of 
what  they  have  wrung  from  our  sweat  and  agony 
through  the  centuries .  You  have  enemies  in  your 
own  ranks.  You  send  men  to  the  House  of 
Commons,  in  the  name  of  Labour  and  Liberty, 
to  represent  you.  Once  safely  there,  you  often 
find  that  they  represent  only  themselves  ;  they  have 
only  used  your  broad  shoulders  as  a  leaping -off 
ground — they  are  grovelling  on  their  bellies  at  the 
feet  of  Capital  and  Power.  And  why?  They 
know  that  the  working-man  of  this  country  will 
stand  anything.  Anything  !  That's  why  I'm 
allowed  to  speak  here  every  Saturday  evening. 
They  know  that  my  fuse  is  always  laid  to  damp 
gunpowder.  Shame  on  you,  though  ! — because  it 
is  your  wives  and  children  who  suffer  most.  If 
your  wives  and  children  are  not  ashamed  of  you, 
I  am  ashamed  of  them  1  And  posterity,  under  the 
heel,  will  curse  your  cowardice  I  *' 

**  What  do  you  propose?  "  a  mild  man  beneath 
him  was  moved  to  ask.  **  What's  your  remedy  for 
the  unjust  state  of  things  ?  " 

The  little  wisp  of  an  orator  gave  a  violent 
start,  rubbed  his  eyes,  and  peered  incredulously 
dovm. 

**  My  word  I  "  he  said  ;  **  here's  a  man  awake — 
and  I  thought  he  was  fast  asleep.    Don't  finger  your 


LOW    SOCIETY  115 

moustache,  my  friend  ;  you'll  wear  it  away.  What 
do  I  propose?  I'll  ask  yoa  a  question — equally 
sane,  if  you  could  realise  it.  Supposing,  just  for 
the  sake  of  example,  you  had  in  your  house  a  very 
precious  jewel,  which  you  had  named  '  The  Right 
to  Live  '  ;  and  one  night  you  started  from  sleep 
and  found  a  great  big  hulking  fellow  stealing  it 
under  your  nose.  What  would  yoa  propose? — 
What  would  be  your  remedy  ?  Turn  over  and  go 
to  sleep  again?  Exactly  1  I  can  well  believe  it. 
That's  what  you've  already  done.  Capital  has 
gradually  filched  from  you  every  human  possession 
you  held  dear,  except  one — your  bare  body.  They 
won't  take  that.  It  moves  and  breathes  and  works. 
You  labour  with  that,  and  produce  the  wealth  that 
bolsters  up  Society's  banking  account. 

**  My  friends  1  "  He  executed  a  few  electrical 
movements,  seeming  to  face  all  ways  at  once.  "  If 
you  don't  wish  to  fight  for  yourselves,  there  are 
others.  Others  to  whom  organization  is  denied 
and  impossible .  Away  in  the  country  there,  where 
the  roar  of  the  city  is  never  heard,  and  where  poets 
suppose  peace  eternal  to  brood,  a  ghastly  and  in- 
famous stagnation  reigns.  There,  countless  thou- 
sands of  your  fellow -men  are  simply  living  on  in 
order  to  die.  They  are  known  mostly — God  help 
them  I — as  agricultural  labourers.  That  means, 
they  are  bound  body  and  soul  to  the  estate  of  some 
nobleman,  some  landed  proprietor,  or  some  strug- 
gling farmer.  The  village  is  their  horizon  for 
ever.  You  cannot  hear  at  this  distance  their 
chains  clanking,  but  they  are  so  many  slaves  of 
the  soil — serfs  of  the  land -owner  who  will  one  day 
answer  to  God  for  his   stewardship,   because   his 

I  2 


Ii6  LOW    SOCIETY 

fellow-men  never  had  the  pluck  to  call  him  to 
account  here  below. 

**  They  have  plenty  of  work,  these  slaves — oh, 
yes,  from  dawn  until  darkness  all  the  year  round. 
And  in  return  they  may  get  from  twelve  to  sixteen 
shillings  a  week,  so  that  their  large  families  may 
be  reared  in  comfort  ;  and  furthermore,  my  lord 
allows  them  to  live,  at  a  so-called  nominal  rent,  in 
cottages  that  you  in  London  would  call  pig-sties. 
If  they  touch  a  rabbit,  or  snare  a  bird,  or  snap  a 
bough  for  firewood,  they  are  sent  to  gaol — by  their 
own  employers,  so-called  Justices  of  the  Peace. 
If  they  attempt  to  break  free  from  their  deaden- 
ing bondage,  their  occupation  in  life  is  gone.  All 
around  them  are  countless  thousands  of  acres  of 
fair  land  ;  but  my  lord  needs  it  all  for  his  preserves . 
If  I  told  you  of  all  I  have  seen  there  in  my  wan- 
derings, you  here  in  the  cities  would  be  almost 
contented  men.  You  would  wonder  that  Almighty 
allowed  human  lives  to  be  held  so  cheap  under 
the  iron  rod  of  the  '  blue-blooded  '  few  who  own 
the  countryside — who  will  not  allow  another  cot- 
tage to  be  built  on  their  vast  estates — who  give  a 
bun  and  a  blanket  at  Christmas  to  those  village 
slaves  who  have  shown  up  at  church  regularly — 
who  feast  and  gamble  and  commit  wholesale  adul- 
tery while  village -women  awaiting  child -bed  are 
picking  up  stones  or  potatoes  all  day  in  their 
ploughed   acres. 

**  But  enough  of  that  !  I  am  talking  to-night 
to  men  who  have  the  remedy  in  their  own  hands. 
I  don*t  know  that  it  is  of  any  use,  after  all.  A 
good  many  of  you  may  be  starving  again  before 
the  winter  is  out  ;  but  you  have  the  comforting 


LOW    SOCIETY  117 

reflection  that  the  authorities,  now  as  always,  are 
prepared  to  give  the  matter  their  most  careful 
consideration  in  due  course.  You  mustn't  hurry 
them  I  And,  above  all,  you  hug  the  glorious  fact 
that  you  are  all — or  nearly  all — to  have  Old  Age 
Pensions  at  seventy  years  of  age.  Only  think  of 
it — at  seventy  !  Can't  you  raise  a  cheer?  What 
more  do  you  want  ? — What  rude  fellow  is  that 
asking  for  work  and  food  and  comfort  while  he 
is  able  to  appreciate  them  ?  Why,  my  dear  friends, 
the  officially-estimated  average  life  of  the  working 
man  is  fifty-five  years  of  age.  And  there's  your 
pension  awaiting  you,  when  you  have  only  been 
dead  fifteen  years.  .  .  .  The  Salvation  Army  will 
now  sing  a  hymn  !  " 

He  stepped  abruptly  down,  and  did  not  reappear. 
The  crowd  of  men  looked  foolish,  and  then,  with 
its  hands  deep  in  its  pockets,  drifted  away  in 
search  of  some  excitement  less  taxing  upon  the 
mental  energies.  Above  all,  the  aim  of  the 
average  Briton  in  any  set  of  circumstances  is, 
to  *'  take  things  easy." 

At  least  two  hours  later,  when  the  din  had  died 
from  her  ears  and  the  naphtha -flare  seemed  very 
far  away,  Hungerford's  wife  stole  into  the  little 
rear  bedroom  at  No.  Nine  to  see  that  the  window - 
fastenings  were  secure,  and  that  no  man  had 
secreted  himself  there  with  felonious  intent  during 
their  absence. 

**  It's  empty  and  locked,"  Hungerford  had 
laughed.     "  There's  nothing  to  fear." 

"  Ah,"  she  said,  with  acumen,  '*  everybody 
thinks  that  until  the  burglar  has  been  and  gone." 

There  was  no  burglar  to-night  ;  but  there  was  a 


Ii8  LOW    SOCIETY 

beautiful  lacework  of  light  lying  upon  the  walls 
and  bare  boards .  The  moon  out  there  had  overcome 
the  mist  and  was  shining  down  through  silvery 
space  like  a  serene,  questioning  eye.  It  lent  all 
the  brown  landscape  beyond  a  majestic  solemnity, 
and  transfigured  Ella's  figure  at  the  blank  window 
into  that  of  a  spirit.  It  held  her,  and  made  her 
think  involuntarily  of  the  Eternal  Presence  :  the 
Rock  Immutable  against  which  the  transient  atoms 
below — the  clamouring  pigmy-legions  here  to-day, 
gone  to-morrow — hurled  their  strength  in  vain.  It 
dwarfed  all  idea  of  human  greatness,  and  reduced 
the  conception  of  Earth  to  its  true  proportions — 
a  mere  speck  revolving  in  space  to  which  there 
is  no  beginning  and  no  end.  She  wanted  to  call 
to  Jim  to  come  and  stand  and  see  eye  to  eye  with 
her,  and  could  not.  To  him,  at  the  moment,  the 
moon  might  have  been  a  moon  and  nothing  more. 

And  then,  all  swiftly,  her  mind  came  back  to  the 
realities.  Steeped  in  the  rare  illumination,  every 
stack  of  material  and  square  of  masonry  standing 
out  in  relief,  lay  the  ugly  beginnings  of  the  new 
row  of  villas  beyond  the  garden  fence.  From  this 
height,  they  looked  like  a  line  of  brick -and -mortar 
puzzle -blocks.  And  in  and  out  of  them,  now  lost 
and  now  reappearing,  moved  the  figure  of  a  man. 

For  him,  the  hour  had  no  meaning.  For  him, 
there  was  nothing  in  life  that  mattered  save  this 
inchoate  mass  of  building  material  out  of  which 
brains  and  muscles  were  evolving  order  and  de- 
sign. Now  and  then  he  threw  back  his  head  to 
look  critically  up  at  the  scaffold -poles  ;  now  and 
then  he  tested  a  rope -knot  ;  now  and  then  he 
stooped  to  pick  up  a  stray  brick  and  place  it  care- 


LOW    SOCIETY  119 

fully  on  the  unused  stack.  Then  he  folded  his 
arms  and  resumed  his  calm  tour  of  general  inspec- 
tion. The  fact  that  eyes  might  be  watching  no 
more  disconcerted  him  than  it  hampers  the  natural 
impulses  of  a  caged  animal. 

Ella  had  never  been  nearer  to  him  than  she  was 
now.  She  knew  him  to  be  neatly  dressed,  and  to 
differ  in  no  specific  way  from  the  average  man — 
save  that  she  had  never  heard  him  speak,  not  even 
in  the  presence  of  Casswade's  workmen,  who  paid 
no  more  heed  to  him  than  to  their  own  shadows. 
This,  of  course,  was  not  enough  for  any  woman 
with  the  true  feminine  spirit  of  curiosity.  She  had 
found  an  opportunity  to  speak  to  Josh,  the 
foreman. 

"  Who  is  he?  "  Josh  had  said  in  his  abstracted 
manner,  after  some  hesitation.  **  Well,  he's  no 
one.  He's  gone."  Josh  touched  his  forehead. 
"  Quite  gone." 

"  But — but  is  he  quite  safe  ?  "  this  had  made  her 
whisper,  her  eyes  wide. 

"  Safe?  He's  as  harmless,  Mrs.  Hungerford,  as 
my  baby  in  its  cot.  That's  why  Mr.  Cass  wade  lets 
him  roam  about  the  buildings  night  or  day." 

"  Out  of  kindness,"  she  suggested,  in  awe. 
And  impassive  Josh  screwed  up  his  face  as  for  a 
yawn. 

*'  M'yes  I  "  he  said.     •'  Yes,  that's  it." 

"What  is  his  name?"  was  her  last  natural 
question.     "  He  must  have  a  name  I  " 

*'  Loney,"  he  said.  *'  Peter  Loney.  Good 
morning,   ma'am  I  " 

To-night,  as  she  softly  let  down  the  blind 
and  shut  out  the  moonlight,  her  true  little  heart 


I20  "LOW    SOCIETY 

was  full  of  vague  pain  for  the  trouble  of  another 
that  seemed  to  her  too  deep  and  sacred  to  be 
probed  farther. 

**  Oh,  Boy — Boy  I  "  she  said,  a  little  later,  turn- 
ing her  damp  cheek  upon  the  pillow  to  kiss  Hun- 
gerford  *'  Good-night  !  *'  "I  only  ask  God  not  t6 
think  our  happiness  is  too  real  for  this  earth  1  ** 


CHAPTER    XI 

For  near  a  week  after  this,  Mr.  Matt  Casswade 
was  missing  from  his  usual  nightly  haunts.  Many 
conjectures  were  made  as  to  the  reason  for  this 
aloofness  in  so  methodical  a  person,  the  most 
weighty  being  to  the  effect  that  he  had  forsworn 
liquor  to  become  a  Good  Templar.  The  "  fat  " 
theory  was  also  revived  ;  while  the  bar-lady  at  the 
*'  local  "  adhered  to  her  belief  that  Mr.  Casswade 
was  on  his  merits  as  a  prospective  husband,  in 
which  case  it  was  only  reasonable  that  he  might  be 
seeking  to  cut  a  presentable  figure  by  reducing 
his  bulk. 

"  Mark  my  words,"  she  said,  '*  there's  a  *  she/ 
And  it's  not  that  Miss  Pugh,  or  whatever  her  name 
is.     If  I  were  a  man,  I'd  have  a  bet  on  it." 

Women,  as  a  rule,  only  bet  when  sure  of  the 
result  ;  but  in  point  of  fact,  there  was  nothing  so 
delicate  or  far-reaching  in  Mr.  Casswade 's  un- 
known movements.  And  if  he  was  missing  any- 
thing in  liquor  between  eight  and  eleven  p.m.,  he 
made  up  ground  fully  upon  reaching  home,  with 
the  result  that  Miss  Pugh  passed  increasingly 
nervous  nights.  He  had  simply  set  himself  each 
evening  to  hover  at  the  lower  end  of  Tamplin 
Street,  without  appearing  to  be  doing  anything 
of  the  kind. 

For  any  man  of  ordinary  appearance,  this  would 


122  LOW    SOCIETY 

have  been  comparatively  easy.  With  Mr.  Cass- 
wade,  it  was  an  ordeal  that  induced  frequent  per- 
spirations and  original  curses.  He  would  have 
disguised  himself  for  his  purpose,  but  this  was 
practically  impossible  ;  all  he  could  do  was  to  turn 
up  his  coat -collar,  make  a  deceptive  dent  in  his 
hat,  and  appear  to  be  casually  scanning  a  poster 
about  a  Mothers'  Meeting  and  a  sale  of  work. 
He  loathed  Mothers*  Meetings,  and  knew  every 
word  on  the  poster  by  heart  ;  but  it  had  to  be  done. 
And  here  was  Friday.  Intolerable  as  it  seemed 
on  the  part  of  a  young  man  who  professed  to  be  in 
love,  four  whole  evenings  had  passed,  and  not  once 
apparently  had  young  Baversham  called  to  take 
Selina  out  of  the  way  for  a  walk.  To  Casswade, 
who  went  under  the  impression  that  a  lovers'  walk 
was  the  fixed  programme  for  every  pair  of  young 
fools  in  existence,  it  appeared  monstrous.  W^hen 
at  length,  at  nine  o'clock  on  Friday  evening,  he 
made  out  the  stiff -built  figure  of  young  Baversham 
approaching  quite  normally,  he  felt  his  blood  boil . 
There  was  another  spell  of  fifteen  minutes  to  be 
passed  in  re-reading  the  poster  ;  and  then,  at  last, 
he  saw  them  emerge,  arm-in-arm,  Selina  leaning 
languorously,  and  wearing  a  hat  which  made 
George's  detested  bowler  look  three  sizes  smaller 
than  it  really  was.  From  a  dark  doorway,  hardly 
allowing  himself  to  breathe,  Mr.  Casswade  watched 
them  safely  out  of  sight.  That  they  might  never 
come  back  alive  was  too  much  to  hope  for,  even  in 
his  state  of  mind.  He  had  to  be  content  with  the 
knowledge  that  at  last  he  had  the  treacherous  Mr. 
Shadd  cornered,  and  that  his  moment  had  come  to 
do  something  decisive,  if  not  actually  desperate . 


LOW    SOCIETY  123 

His  frontal  bulk  poised  impressively,  he  moved 
up  the  street  and  halted  outside  Mr.  Shadd's  shop. 
There  were  three  or  four  customers  to  be  served, 
as  it  happened  ;  but  he  could  afford  to  wait.  He 
waited,  with  a  deadly,  basilisk  expression  in  re- 
serve for  the  moment  when  Mr.  Shadd  caught 
sight  of  him. 

"  S — s — s — **  came  the  halting  sibilants  from 
Mr.  Shadd,  as  his  scales  dipped  under  a  small  pile 
of  bacon  "  pieces  "  for  the  last  customer— a  boy 
who  could  hardly  see  over  the  counter.  It  was 
almost  a  moral  certainty  that  he  was  working 
himself  up  to  *'  sevenpence,"  and  even  to  an  odd 
halfpenny  if  conscience  would  stretch  as  far.  But 
he  happened  to  glance  up,  and  he  saw  the  huge, 
motionless  bulk  of  Mr.  Casswade,  with  hands  dug 
into  his  sides,  blocking  up  the  outlet  in  grim 
suggestiveness.  "  Sixpence,"  he  said,  with  merely 
a  shakiness.  "Why,  it's  never  Mr.  Casswade? 
This  is  a  surprise  I  " 

**  Is  it?  "  said  Mr.  Casswade,  with  slow  mean- 
ing. *'  Yes,  p'r'aps  it  is.  Go  on,  pack  up  the  lad's 
pieces  ;  don't  mind  me  ;  you  mayn't  be  takin' 
money  much  longer." 

"  Ha,  ha  1  "  laughed  Mr.  Shadd  feebly.  "  Yes, 
just  fancy — I  was  only  saying  to  Mrs.  Shadd  in 
the  night  that  I  did  hope  we  hadn't  done  any- 
thing intentional  to  offend " 

**  The  lad  waits,"  repeated  Casswade,  motioning 
with  a  nice  sense  of  the  dramatic.  **  Bis'ness 
before  even  me,  or  what  you  said  in  the  night." 

In  marked  haste,  with  that  cold  stare  upon  him, 
Mr.  Shadd  wrapped  up  the  bacon,  took  his  money, 
stooped  for  the  long-service  finger-cloth  beneath 


124  LOW    SOCIETY 

the  counter,  and,  quite  unthinkingly,  mopped  his 
face  with  it.     The  effect  was  instantaneous. 

"  You  know  what  you've  done,  I  s'pose  ?  "  asked 
Casswade,  still  not  moving.  "  Look  at  yourself  in 
the  glass." 

*'  Bless  me  !  "  He  used  his  handkerchief  hur- 
riedly. "  It  took  me  back,  seeing  you  there  of  a 
sudden  like  that.  Just  half  a  second,  Mr.  Cass- 
wade, while  I  open  the  private  door '* 

**  Let  it  alone,"  said  Casswade,  in  his  deepest 
voice.  "  I  don't  ask  any  private  door,  or  any  other 
hole-and-corner  bis 'ness.  This '11  dome.   Now,  sir  I" 

Visibly  subdued  and  alarmed,  Mr.  Shadd  threw 
back  the  counter -flap  ;  and  Casswade  squeezed 
past  it  with  dignity,  and  entered  the  parlour 
beyond.  Shadd  ran  for  the  best  leather  chair, 
dusted  it  with  the  same  handkerchief,  and 
staggered  forward  with  it — not  appearing  to  notice 
as  his  visitor  twitched  away  the  antimacassar  and 
flung  it  into  a  corner. 

"  Leave  the  door  open,"  Casswade  said.  **  I'm 
not  afraid  o'  bein'  heard  ;  and  you  might  be  losin' 
a  ha'penny-egg  customer." 

He  sat  slowly  down — half  rising  again  as  Mr. 
Shadd  rushed  forward  with  the  special  small  table 
and  a  decanter. 

"  Not  for  me,"  he  said,  with  warmth.  "  I  don't 
want  it.  I  had  some  o'  that  last  time  I  was  here. 
Nearly  killed  me." 

'*  This?  "  faltered  the  other,  nearly  speechless. 
*'  What,  when  it  was  bought  for  the  best  old 
whiskey " 

**  Then,  they  saw  you  comin*.  I  don't  want  it, 
I  say.     I  respect  my  innards,  if  you  don't." 


LOW    SOCIETY  125 

Mr.  Shadd  let  the  decanter  drop  with  a  dull 
bang.     This  was  almost  the  last  conceivable  straw. 

"  Why,  Mr.  Casswade,  whatever 's  the  matter  to- 
night ?  Whatever  have  we  done,  to  be  insulted 
— I  can't  call  it  anything  less — by  an  old  friend 
like  yourself?  " 

"What  have  you  done?"  Casswade  wheeled 
round  in  the  chair,  to  stare  glassily  up  at  him. 
"  Nothin'.  But  don't  you  dare  to  call  me  an  old 
friend,  or  a  new  one  either.  Because  Fm  not  here 
as  a  friend,  but  as  a  bloomin'  enemy  ;  understand 
that." 

Mr.  Shadd  winced,  as  his  small  **  occasional  " 
table  quivered  and  jumped  under  a  convincing 
down -blow  from  the  enemy's  flat  hand. 

"I'm  sorry,"  he  whispered.  **  I  never  thought 
to  hear  such  words  in  my  lifetime.  But  whatever 
I've  done,  and  whatever  I  feel,  I'm  not  going  to 
allow  you  to  excite  yourself." 

**  Oh  !  Why  not?"  demanded  Mr.  Casswade, 
his  hand  suspended  for  another  blow.  For  a 
moment  he  suspected  that  the  **  strangulating  fat  " 
theory  was  part  of  an  organized  joke  which  had 
gone  the  round  of  Barking. 

**  Because — "  he  tried  to  edge  the  table  away 
— "  because  of  your  health,  of  course." 

**  Oh  !  What's  wrong  with  my  health?  Why 
can't  I  get  excited,  if  I  want  to — if  I  mean  to  ? 
Eh  ?  I  s*pose,  because  I  happen  to  be  a  little  thick 
in  the  neck " 

"  Nothing  of  the  kind,"  thrust  in  Mr.  Shadd, 
with  eager  indignation.  Casswade's  appearance 
at  the  moment  certainly  warranted  his  fears — as 
did  Mr.  Casswade's  next  hoarse  words. 


126  LOW    SOCIETY 

"  I  know  all  about  it.  I'll  have  a  fit,  if  I 
choose  ;  and  I'll  have  it  in  your  bloomin'  parlour, 
if  I  choose.  That's  me."  And  down  came  his  hand 
with  a  crash. 

"  Oh,  don't,  don't,"  gasped  the  other.  "  I 
mean,  you've  nearly  upset  the  decanter." 

**  And  I  mean  to,  before  I  go,"  he  replied,  still 
more  hoarsely.  **  I'll  tell  you  now,  I've  got  the 
power,  and  I'm  goin'  to  upset  the  whole  blessed 
show." 

"You  are?"  Shadd  queried,  eyeing  him  as- 
kance. "  That's  a  very  strange  thing  to  say,  Mr. 
Casswade,  even  if  it's  not " 

"  Wait  !  "  He  got  up.  "I  see  your  game. 
*  Let  him  cool  down,'  thinks  you.  *  Let  him  have 
the  easy  chair  and  get  a  drop  o'  drink  down  his 
neck.*  Not  me  I  See  it?"  He  waved  in  the 
direction  of  the  shop.  **  You  can  take  your  last 
look  at  it.  I'm  goin'  to  bust  up  your  bis'ness — 
pickles,  firewood,  and  all  the  rest  of  it.  You 
greasy -faced  Judas,  you  1  " 

Mr.  Shadd  looked  fixedly  at  the  floor.  He  did 
not  care  to  move,  or  look  in  any  other  direction. 
He  was  impeached  and  sentenced  without  any 
pretence  of  a  trial,  and  felt  it  awkward. 

**  Judas  !  "  went  on  Mr.  Casswade.  "  Very  nice 
idea  o'  yours,  wasn't  it,  to  get  me  here  for  your 
bloomin'  birthday  party.  Very  nice  to  stop  people 
in  the  street  and  say  :  ^  Allow  me — my  friend,  Mr. 
Casswade  I  '  Very  good  idea  to  cadge  a  cash 
weddin'  present  out  o'  me " 

**  I  never  did,"  dared  Mr.  Shadd,  strenuously. 
"  Whatever  else  I  am,  I'm  not  that." 

**  Ain't  you?    I  thought  you  was.     My  mistake. 


LOW    SOCIETY  127 

Well,  now,  listen  to  me."  He  put  one  broad  foot 
on  the  leather  chair,  and  dug  his  forefinger  into 
Mr.  Shadd  to  punctuate  the  sentences.  If  Mr. 
Shadd  were  ticklish,  he  suffered  without  being  able 
to  move  a  muscle.  **  When  you  run  up  against 
Casswade,  you  did  a  silly  thing,  and  you're  goin* 
to  rue  it  to  your  dyin'  day,  whether  it's  to-morrow 
or  next  week.  See?  "  And  Mr.  Shadd  kept  up 
a  series  of  stifled  gasps.  Someone  was  knocking 
on  the  shop  counter,  but  he  dared  not  betray 
interest  in  the  fact .  The  revelation  to  come  was  so 
clearly  of  a  tremendous  nature,  if  as  yet  inexpli- 
cable. **  Now  1  I've  found  out  that  you  do  go 
to  church,  and  I've  found  out  where  you  go  to 
church  ;  and  I've  found  out  what  I  expected — that 
you're  a  bloomin'  half-and-half  deacon,  and  that 
you've  worked  up  a  money-makin*  contract  to 
supply  the  school  treats  and  swarries  with  butter 
and  groceries  and  what  not  at  a  ruinous  bloomin* 
figure — in  fact,  that  you've  come  the  usual  pew- 
and -parson  game  all  round.  And  I'm  goin*  to 
stop  it.  I'm  goin'  to  show  you  right  up — never 
mind  how.  I  don't  reckon  you'll  ever  put  your 
head  inside  any  church  when  I've  done  with  you. 
Your  bis'ness  is  busted.  Your  church  game  is 
jest  about  over.     That's  all." 

He  stuck  his  thumbs  in  the  armholes  of  his 
waistcoat,  and  waited.  Even  now  it  looked  like 
being  an  inconclusive  denouement^  as  Mr.  Shadd 
could  not  seem  to  recollect  who  or  where  he  was. 
But  in  the  pregnant  pause  a  step  sounded  on  the 
stair.  Mrs.  Shadd,  who  was  changing  into  her 
evening  dress  above,  had  caught  a  stray  syllable 
here    and   there,    and    wondered    what    it    was    all 


128  LOW    SOCIETY 

about.  The  sudden  sight  of  her,  with  only  a  towel 
flung  around  her  bare  shoulders,  restored  her 
husband's  faculties  to  a  certain  extent. 

"  It's  all  right,"  he  rattled.  '*  It's  only  Mr. 
Casswade  called.^    We're  talking  business." 

"  Yes,  strict  bis'ness,  ma'am,  if  you  don't 
mind,"  corroborated  Casswade,  with  cold  em- 
phasis ;  and  she  retreated.  "  Serve  that  female," 
he  added,  pointing  shopwards.  "  She's  been 
thumpin'  for  the  last  five  minutes." 

The  female  required  two  tallow  candles,  and 
would  bring  the  twopence  round  early  in  the  morn- 
ing, because,  as  she  explained,  her  husband  had 
had  a  bad  half-sovereign  given  him,  and  was 
trying  to  get  rid  of  it.  She  shouldn't  think  of 
passing  the  same  off  on  Mr.  Shadd. 

"  That's  it  ;  that's  about  the  limit  o'  your 
dealin's  in  the  future — tuppence  on  the  nod," 
Mr.  Casswade  said,  with  cheerful  decision,  as  the 
other  returned.  "I'm  goin'  to  see  the  vicar  o' 
that  church  the  first  thing  ;  and  if  that  don't 
do,  I  know  what  will.  There's  jest  a  few  in  that 
church  owe  me  money  in  my  bis'ness." 

'*  Then — then  it  amounts  to  intimidation  on  your 
part?"  Mr.  Shadd  forced  himself  to  say  in 
desperation. 

**  I  don't  care  what  it  amounts  to,"  laughed 
Casswade,  striding  up  and  down.  **  It's  me 
against  you.  I'm  Casswade  of  Barking,  and 
you're  simply  Shadd  of  Tamplin  Street — which 
is  as  good  as  Mr.  Nobody  of  bloomin'  Nowhere, 
And  I'm  goin'  to  do  this,"  he  proceeded,  reaching 
out  to  bang  the  table  solemnly  again,  "  simply 
because  you're  no  man,  but  a  low-down  serpent." 


LOW    SOCIETY  129 

"I'm  not.     I  assure  you,  if  you  mean "  Mr. 

Shadd  essayed,  almost  touchingly.  He  was  easily 
overwhelmed. 

"  I  do  mean.  I  know  what  I'm  sayin',"  roared 
Casswade,  all  by -play  at  an  end  now.  "  I've 
stood  at  the  end  of  this  blessed  street  five  nights, 
readin'  a  Mothers'  Meetin'  bill,  waitin'  till  I  knew 
them  young  devils  were  out  o'  the  way — out  o* 
the  way  o'  my  fist,  I  mean.  Here's  me,  a  master 
builder  and  property  owner,  respected  everywhere, 
standin*  up  to  have  dirt  thrown  at  me  wherever  I 
go,  and  made  the  laughin'  stock  o*  the  place,  and 
have  my  clients  waylaid  and  told  criminal  lies 
about  me,  by  your  daughter  and  her  feller  from 
Beckton.     What  1  " 

"  It's  the  first  I've  heard  of  it,"  the  other  trem- 
bled.    "The  very  first." 

•*  What  I  "  repeated  Casswade.  **  Why,  you'd 
stand  up  and  lie  to  a  judge,  I  do  believe.  Here, 
I  sat  in  that  very  chair  there,  not  a  month  ago, 
drinkin'  bad  whiskey  on  your  account,  and  allowin' 
myself  to  shake  hands  with  all  and  bloomin'  sundry 
you'd  invited  here  to  get  birthday  presents  from 
— and  then  you  turn  round  in  secret  to  try  and 
ruin  my  bis'ness  name  and  connections.  You'll 
tell  me  next  she  ain't  your  daughter  at  all.  You'll 
bring  the  missis  down  to  swear  you  don't  know 
nothin'  about  her  or  her  half-baked  feller  from 
Beckton  I  " 

"What  has  she  done?"  asked  the  maddened 
Shadd.  "  You  come  here  like  a  wild  bull, 
accusing  me  of  what  I  don't  know  anything 
about — wliat  have  I  done,  I  ask?  State  your 
facts  1  " 

L.s.  K 


I30  LOW    SOCIETY 

**  Oh,  you  actor,"  said  Mr.  Casswade,  suddenly 
sinking  his  voice  and  leaning  forward.  "  You 
dirty  actor — that's  what  you  are.  Who  put  the 
words  into  her  mouth? — the  very  words  that  I 
said  to  you  in  strict  private,  as  man  to  man,  when 
I  warned  you  against  the  feller  she  was  thinkin' 
to  marry  ?  What  I  said  to  you  about  him  was  on 
her  account,  to  be  treated  as  sacred  ;  and  to  think 
that  immediately  my  back's  turned,  you  go  and 
tell  him  all,  and  lay  me  open  to  an  action  for 
slander — although,  mind  you,  I  can  bring  my 
witnesses  to  prove  that  I've  never  hinted  such  a 
thing,  and  other  witnesses  to  prove  that  he's  no 
good  to  any  single  woman,"  he  finished,  thus 
hedging  both  ways  and  leaving  no  loophole. 

'*  I  swear,"  persisted  Mr.  Shadd,  earnestly,  *'  I 
have  never  breathed  a  word  of  it  to  either  of  them. 
There  1  " 

"You  do?" 

**  I  swear  that,"  he  repeated,  with  hand  uplifted. 
'*  Never  a  syllable." 

**  Well,  strike  me  purple,"  breathed  Mr.  Cass- 
wade,  wiping  his  forehead  as  he  went  walking  to 
and  fro.  **  Either  you  or  me's  stark  balmy."  He 
halted.  "  Either  you  or  me,  I  say.  Which  is  it? 
Not  me." 

"  And  not  me,"  returned  Mr.  Shadd,  just  as 
steadily.  It  rendered  Mr.  Casswade  sarcastic  by 
its  very  air  of  genuineness. 

**  Very  likely  it's  all  that  whiskey  o'  yours," 
he  suggested.  "  Or  p'r'aps  you  talk  in  your  sleep, 
eh?" 

"  No,  I'd  no  need  to  do  that,"  Shadd  retorted, 
at  bay.     "I'd  told  my  wife  all  about  it  from  be- 


LOW    SOCIETY  131 

ginning  to  end,  before  we  went  to  sleep  that 
night." 

"Oh,  you  did?"  Casswade  halted  again,  his 
voice  changing.  "  Hullo,  then,  that  accounts  for 
it  all,  p'r'aps.  That's  the  meanin*  of  it.  Now 
we're  comin'  down  to  it." 

"  Not  at  all."  Shadd  was  struck,  but  not  dis- 
mayed. "  She's  never  uttered  a  word  of  it,  to  my 
knowledge.  You'd  have  done  the  same,  from  a 
mere  sense  of  manhood.  Man  and  wife  are  one  in 
everything,  as  you  know." 

"  I  don't  know,"  rasped  the  other,  with  heat. 
"  I  dunno  any  thin'  about  wimmen  'cept  that  I  don't 
want  to  know  anythin'  more  about  'em  than  I  do. 
You  told  her.  That's  enough  for  me.  And  see 
what  you've  done — busted  yourself." 

There  was  a  pause.  Mr.  Shadd  seemed  to  be 
mentally  clutching  at  some  faint,  remote  chance  of 
patching  up  matters  and  averting  disaster  even 
now. 

**  I  hope  not,"  he  ventured,  presently.  "Mr. 
Casswade,  it  has  just  occurred  to  me,  if  you'll 
allow  me  to  speak.  You  know  what  girls  of  that 
age  are — especially  in  love.  Now  I  come  to  think 
of  it,  I  was  talking  it  over  with  Mrs.  Shadd  in  this 
very  room,  late  that  same  Sunday  night.  The 
question  was — should  Baversham  be  shunted  as 
undesirable  ?  And  Selina  might  have  been  listen- 
ing on  the  stairs  there.  In  fact,  now  I  come  to 
think  again,  I  believe  she  must  have  been.  Be- 
cause they've  both  seemed  a  little  peculiar  ever 
since — as  if  she'd  told  him  all,  and  he'd  taken  it 
in  a  wrong  light." 

"  Oh,  you  begin  to  think,  do  you?  "  Casswade 

K    2 


132  LOW    SOCIETY 

sneered.  **  P'r'aps  now  you'll  keep  it  up  and  say 
what's  to  be  done  ?  " 

"  I  can  hardly  thrash  her — at  that  age,"  he  re- 
flected, still  bent  on  pacification  at  any  cost. 
**  And  it  wouldn't  do  much  good — although  I  will, 
if  you  wish  it.  Look  here,  Mr.  Casswade,  this  is 
a  serious  matter  for  all  concerned.  Supposing 
you,  as  a  friend  of  the  family,  and  the  injured 
party,  were  to  meet  them  both  here  with  us,  and 
talk  it  over  thoroughly " 

**  Not  me,"  said  Casswade,  puffing  out  all  the 
breath  he  had  held  in.  **  What  d'you  take  me 
for?  D'you  think  I,  a  master  builder,  am  goin* 
to  sit  down  and  argue  with  a  man  like  that — an 
underfed  feller  from  Beckton?  And  as  for  your 
daughter Likely  I'd  lower  myself  to  any- 
thin'  o'  that  kind  after  she's  been  and " 

"Yes,  what  has  Selina  been  up  to?"  Shadd 
asked  apprehensively,  as  he  paused. 

**  Up  to — never  you  mind."  He  had  almost 
betrayed  himself  by  feeling  his  cheeks  in  turn. 
**  I've  done  enough  in  comin'  here  to  put  the  whole 
thing  to  you,  in  private.  It's  got  to  end.  I  don't 
care  what  you  do,  or  how  you  do  it  :  it's  got  to 
end.  You  and  your  wife  bein'  one,  no  doubt 
you'll  tell  her  everythin'  the  moment  I'm  gone. 
All  I  say  to  you  is " 

There  was  a  noise  of  smothered  laughter  and 
footsteps  in  the  shop  beyond.  The  counter-flap 
went  up  and  down.  Mr.  Shadd  took  one  backward 
glance,  and  shot  round,  with  an  imploring  throat - 
rattle. 

"  It's  them  back — Selina  and  him  1  You  won't, 
for  heaven's  sake " 


LOW    SOCIETY  133 

Mr.  Casswade's  figure  had  gone  up.  His  arm 
had  gone  out.     He  looked  ready  and  awful. 

**  Don't  I  '*  the  other  had  just  time  to  breathe. 
**  Not  here  !  Wait,  if  you  only  can — wait  till 
you're  outside  I  " 


CHAPTER    XII 

The  courting  couple  strolled  in.  One  stare, 
and  then  Selina,  a  hand  flung  to  her  mouth,  made 
a  hasty  rush  for  the  staircase  ;  the  sound  of  hyste- 
rical laughter  died  away  above.  How  Casswade 
bore  himself  in  that  moment — how  his  body  stood 
the  bursting  strain  put  upon  it — was  something 
best  left  unasked  and  unsolved.  In  great  measure, 
no  doubt,  it  was  due  to  the  paralysing  coolness 
of  Selina's  young  man. 

"  How  do  ?  "  Baversham  said,  with  an  easy  nod, 
as  if  nothing  in  Mr.  Casswade 's  attitude  was  at  all 
singular.  He  sank  into  the  first  chair  handy,  and 
tossed  the  bowler  hat  aside,  to  push  back  his  hair. 
'*  Decent  evenin',  but  we  didn't  get  far.  Yes,  I 
will,  if  it's  all  the  same  to  you." 

Shaking  from  head  to  foot,  Mr.  Shadd  had  had 
just  sufficient  presence  of  mind  left  to  snatch  up 
the  decanter  and  break  the  spell.  In  that  crucial 
moment,  while  his  body  formed  a  partial  screen 
for  both  men,  Casswade  somehow  or  other  dropped 
back  into  the  leather-covered  chair.  The  balances 
swayed.  For  a  minute  Mr.  Shadd  dared  not  look 
round  ;  and  then,  on  a  second  inspiration,  he 
actually  drew  forward  the  special  little  table  again. 
With  a  great  sigh  Casswade  let  his  elbow  go 
limply  down  to  meet  the  support.  There  was 
hope  I     He  had  been  called  that  night  a  serpent  : 


LOW    SOCIETY  135 

with  the  cunrrtng  stealth  of  one,  Mr.  Shadd  half 
filled  another  glass  from  the  same  decanter,  and 
slid  it  close  to  the  arm.  Presently  Mr.  Casswade 
glared  down  at  it,  as  something  he  had  never  seen 
before — and  then  swallowed  its  contents  at  a  gulp. 

**  Thank  God  I  "  muttered  Shadd,  turning  his 
face.     Never  had  a  man  meant  it  more  fervently. 

Softly,  after  another  pause  for  safety-play,  he 
went  and  closed  the  door  facing  the  staircase.  He 
deemed  it  improbable  that  either  Selina  or  her 
mother  would  be  coming  down  just  yet.  Softly, 
after  another  lull,  he  emptied  the  last  of  the 
whiskey  into  Mr.  Casswade 's  glass,  and  looked 
up  presently  to  see  that  it  was  gone.  He  thought 
it  safe  to  draw  up  a  chair  and  take  the  edge  of  it 
himself. 

**  And  how's  your  young  woman  ?  '* 

It  was  Casswade's  voice,  thick  but  restrained, 
breaking  the  silence  with  a  suddenness  that  took 
the  breath.  He  had  lifted  his  lowered  head,  and 
was  looking  straight  at  Baversham. 

**  Oh,  she's  nicely,  thank  you,"  Baversham  said, 
looking  straight  back.  "And  how  are  you,  if  I 
may  ask?  " 

"I'm  as  you  see  me — always  about  the  same. 
I'm  good  for  any  man's  money,  sir,  if  he  likes  to 
try  me.  I  can  give  and  take,  and  I  can  hit 
devilish  hard  for  my  years." 

"  I  see,"  said  George,  as  if  he  had  wondered  on 
those  points. 

There  was  another  perilous  spell  of  silence  and 
hard  breathing.  Then  gradually  Mr.  Casswade's 
contribution  to  the  latter  relaxed.  He  looked 
across  again,^  with  merely  the  fixed  scowl  of  one 


136  LOW    SOCIETY 

who  had  been  cheated  of  murder  and  wanted  the 
fact  to  be  fully  recognised. 

**  You're  thinkin'  o'  marryin',  I  understand. 
Like  the  idea?  " 

"  Well,  I  don't  mind  it,"  George  admitted, 
frankly.  "  I  s'pose  we  shall  rub  along  like  most 
others.  We  ought  to.  There's  plenty  o'  people 
with  advice  about,  if  that's  anythin'." 

"  It's  a  risky  game,"  Casswade  commented, 
seeming  really  about  to  deliberately  lay  aside  his 
purpose  in  coming  there.  Shadd  was  ready  to 
spring  up  and  create  a  diversion — even  by  smash- 
ing the  decanter  accidentally — the  instant  a  nasty 
word  or  look  crept  in.  **  Like  Barkin'  as  well  as 
Beckton?  " 

*'  I  don't  live  at  Beckton,"  the  young  man  re- 
m'inded  him.     And  he  corrected  himself  hastily. 

**  Ah,  of  course  not — my  mistake.  No,  I 
wouldn't  like  any  man  o'  my  acquaintance  to  live 
in  that  Gawd-forsaken  place,  along  o'  Chinamen 
and  river -scum." 

**  But  I  work  there,"  said  Baversham,  pointedly. 

**  Ah,  yes — yes,  to  be  sure  !  The  place  is  all 
right,  I  expect,  when  you  get  used  to  it."  He 
looked  down  at  his  glass,  the  chagrin  of  playing 
lamb  when  he  was  really  a  lion  obviously  surging 
uppermost  again.    Up  sprang  Mr.  Shadd. 

"  I  haven't  another  drain  left  in  the  place,"  he 
whispered,  feverishly.  *'  If  you  wouldn't  mind 
being  left  a  moment,  I  could  get  some " 

That  was  enough.  "  No  more  for  me,"  said 
Casswade,  with  decision.  *'  I've  got  tons  at  home 
— if  I  liked  to  touch  it."  He  turned  yet  again 
to  Baversham,  who  seemed  quite  unable  to  feel  or 


LOW    SOCIETY  137 

look  like  a  prisoner  mercifully  reprieved. 
**  Thinkin'  about  a  bis'ness  o'  some  sort,  I  hear? 
What  line,  might  I  ask?  " 

**  Well,  I  dunno  myself,"  said  Baversham  care- 
lessly, nursing  one  knee.  **  I  haven't  really  gone 
into  the  matter  seriously.     Selina  has,  though." 

**  Then  you're  a  fool,"  Casswade  bluntly  in- 
formed him.  "  If  you're  thinkin*  of  investin' 
your  money,  so  to  speak,  you  ought  to  be  up  and 
doin',  with  eyes  in  the  back  o'  your  head  and 
everywhere  else." 

"  Physical  impossibility,  that,"  remarked 
George,  absently. 

"  Eh  ?  "  rapped  Casswade.     **  What's  that  ?  " 

**  I  mean,  I'm  in  no  particular  hurry  about 
gettin'  a  bis'ness  or  gettin'  married  either." 

"What  d'you  say  to  that?"  Casswade  asked, 
turning  his  glare  upon  Mr.  Shadd.  "  What  does 
Selina  say  ?  Is  that  how  you  felt  about  your 
wife?" 

**  Well — "  Mr.  Shadd  was  just  beginning  to 
feel  normal  again — "  well,  I  rather  think  I 
was  a  leetle  more  eager  in  a  way,  myself,  on  the 
point,  so  to  speak.  But  I  daresay  you've  noticed 
that — er — the  young  people  nowadays  are  not  quite 
what  we  were." 

"  I  have,"  agreed  the  other,  emphatically. 
**  And  I  notice  it  more  every  bloomin'  day." 

•*  Not,  of  course,"  went  on  Mr.  Shadd,  in  haste, 
**  but  what  we're  all — well,  what  we  are'' 

"  Oh,  cert'nly  —  although  I  dunno  what  you 
mean,"  agreed  Casswade  again.  He  bit  round 
one  finger-nail,  deep  in  tremendous  thought  that 
apparently   came  to   nothing   useful.      "  What   / 


138  LOW    SOCIETY 

meant,"  he  said,  **  was  that,  from  all  I've  heard, 
it  don't  seem  natural — not  quite  the  thing  in  a 
young  man,  whatever  the  woman  feels.  But  that's 
neither  here  nor  there.  I'm  not  asked  for  any 
opinion.'* 

*'  Quite  so,"  said  Baversham,  softly  reflective. 
"Quite  so." 

**  At  the  same  time,"  proceeded  Casswade, 
keeping  his  eye  on  the  tortured  Mr.  Shadd,  *'  most 
fathers  with  a  daughter  like  that  would  want  to 
know  who's  who,  and  what's  what," 

**  Ah,  and  why's  why,"  added  George,  deeply. 
Mr.  Shadd  implored  him  with  another  convulsive 
wink  to  pick  his  words  or  keep  silent  ;  but  he 
seemed  not  to  see. 

**  I  don't  follow  you,  young  man,"  Casswade 
said,  loudly.  And  George  left  his  reverie,  with  a 
start. 

**Eh?  Er — no,  I'm  followin'  you,  sir.  You 
were  sayin' " 

"  I  was  sayin'  nothin'.  As  a  matter  o*  fact,  I 
don't  hold  with  any  man  tyin'  himself  up  to  any 
woman  whatsoever,  'cause  it  stands  to  reason " 

**  You'd  have  the  population  stop  altogether?  " 
Baversham  breathed. 

"  No,  sir  1  Why  should  it?  Stop  be  blowed. 
What  about  birds  ?  What  about  birds,  beasts  and 
fishes?" 

Mr.  Shadd  coughed  and  looked  at  the  ceiling. 
Baversham  blew  his  nose  and  made  a  swoop  at  a 
passing  fly.  The  arresting  bang  of  Mr.  Cass- 
wade's  hand  on  the  small  table  startled  them  both, 
and  made  Shadd  groan  inaudibly. 

"  What  about  it,.  I  say  ?    D'you  hear,  sir  ?  '* 


LOW    SOCIETY  139 

"  I  think— I  rather  think — "  whispered  Mr. 
Shadd,  "  we'll  leave  that  point  for  the  moment, 
as — er  ** — he  jerked  his  head  toward  the  stair- 
case— "  you  know  what  women  are." 

"Jest  as  you  like.  Our  friend  here" — in- 
dicating Baversham  —  "  was  speakin'  about 
bis'ness.  And  that's  one  thing  I  do  reckon  I  know 
a  bit  about.  I  can  offer  an  opinion  on  that,  if 
nothin'  else.  I  can  tell  a  man  if  he's  likely  to 
make  hisself  a  millionaire  or  make  hisself  a  fool. 
1$  that  so,  or  not?  " 

**  I  believe,"  said  Mr.  Shadd,  with  feeling, 
"  that  if  Selina  and  her  young  man  felt  able  to 
accept  expert  advice,  they  couldn't  do  better." 

**  Very  well,  then."  Casswade  settled  himself 
less  stiffly  in  the  chair.  **  In  the  first  place,  I 
could  give  this  Selina's  young  man  a  tip  worth 
ten  pounds  as  a  lead-off.  And  it's  this  :  if  he 
means  bis'ness  at  all,  let  him  drop  that  rotten  name 
of  his  on  the  spot  and  take  another." 

"  Rotten?  "  queried  George,  quite  mildly,  con- 
sidering. 

**  That's  what  I  said,  sir.  It's  a  name  that  *ud 
do  for  Dick,  Tom  and  Harry  in  any  bloomin' 
crowd  ;  but  over  a  shop,  or  on  a  nameplate,  it 
wouldn't  draw  a  starved  bug." 

'*  It  wouldn't?  "  echoed  George,  obviously  im- 
pressed. 

•'  And  it  wouldn't  come  quick  to  anyone's' 
tongue — which  is  the  first  thing  you've  got  to 
think  of  in  bis'ness.  And  if  you  can't  see  the  force 
o*  that  at  once,  you'd  better  put  your  money  in 
the  Savings  Bank  and  let  it  go  mouldy  for  want  o' 
brains." 


140  LOW    SOCIETY 

*' Fancy  1  "  said  George.  "What  would  you 
suggest,  now?  " 

**  Why "     This  was  abrupt.     Mr.  Casswade 

ruminated  tensely  a  minute.  *'  Why,  I'll  tell 
you.  The  sort  o'  name  you  want  and  must  have, 
is — Golightly  Brown.  There  you  are  ;  you  can't 
beat  it.     I  see  it  on  a  doctor's  plate." 

"  Brown,"  mu^ed  George.  "I'm  afraid  Selina 
'ud  kick  at  that.     In  fact,  I  know  she  would." 

**  It's  not  exactly  classic,  you  mean  to  say,"  Mr. 
Shadd  ventured,  carefully. 

**  Classic  be  blowed,"  said  Casswade.  *•  Classic 
won't  pay  a  man's  rent  and  taxes.  Classic  was  all 
very  well  for  a  naked  Greek  or  Indian,  but  I'm 
talkin'  o'  to-day  !  Come  to  that,  he  could  shove 
up  *  Golightly  Baversham  '  ;  but,  my  Gawd,  you'd 
have  people  tumblin'  over  it.  I  never  heard  such 
a  name  in  my  life,  and  that's  a  fact." 

The  owner  of  it  stroked  his  chin  silently  a 
moment.  At  first  sight,  it  was  certainly  a  drastic 
step  that  was  proposed. 

*'  I  s'pose  you  didn't  have  to  alter  yours  at  all  ?  " 
he  asked. 

"Me?  No.  What  for?  There  was  the  name 
cut  and  dried.     It  was  *  Matt  Casswade  this,'  and 

*  Matt  Casswade  that,'  all  over  the  place  as  soon  as 
I  started.      But   ask    yourself — Baversham  I      No 

*  go  '  in  it — no  guts — no  meanin'  whatever."  And 
Baversham  sat  back. 

"  It's  worth  considerin',"  he  said.     "  But  as  for 

*  Golightly,'  I'd  see  myself  damned  and  bankrupt 
first." 

"  George  I  "  protested  Mr.  Shadd.  "I  can't 
have   that   here — in   Selina's    hearing,    above    all. 


LOW    SOCIETY  141 

Come,  now  !  "  And  Casswade  forced  a  short  but 
meaning  laugh. 

"  Oh,  you  dunno  all  about  Selina's  young  man. 
You've  got  to  find  him  out." 

George  could  have  found  a  retort  to  match,  but 
for  some  reason  or  other  he  preferred  to  appear 
steeped  in  abstract  thought,  the  while  he  tapped 
and  lit  a  cigarette.  This  soothing  action  reminded 
Casswade  of  a  reserve-cigar  in  his  own  pocket. 
He  produced  it  elaborately,  found  it  cracked  in  the 
middle,  handed  it  to  Mr.  Shadd  as  a  present,  and 
fell  back  on  his  pipe.  Mr.  Shadd,  who  seldom 
smoked,  pricked  the  cigar  in  half  a  dozen  places 
to  make  it  "  draw,"  and  presently  had  smoke 
issuing  from  each  puncture.     He  laid  it  down. 

"  Someone  in  the  shop,"  he  gasped,  chokily. 

He  hurried  out,  closing  the  door  behind  him. 
He  was  back  in  a  few  minutes,  panting  ;  and  drew 
from  his  pocket  with  triumphant  stealth  a  bottle  of 
whiskey. 

**  Cork  drawn  and  all.  Quick  work,  eh  ?  "  he 
said,  to  remove  the  constraint.  "  Now  we  shall  be 
comfortable  and  sociable  like.  .  Ah,  if  I  have  a 
friend  drop  in,  I  like  him  to  feel  he  is  a  friend, 
and  welcome  to  everything  I've  got  in  the  place." 

"Humph,"  grunted  Casswade.  '- A  wonder 
your  house  ain't  full  o*  friends  night  and  day. 
Half  and  half  for  me." 

'*  Half  and  half  for  Mr.  Casswade,"  Shadd  re- 
peated, chuckling  to  himself  over  a  tragedy  turned 
into  comedy  by  sheer  clever  handling.  He  was 
properly  careful,  however,  to  see  that  Baversham 
had  merely  a  dash  of  spirit  to  the  glass  of  water. 
**  Well,  this  is  what  I  call  nice  and  cosy,"  he  said, 


142  LOW    SOCIETY 

as  he  sat  down  fairly  on  his  chair.  **  And  all  I 
wish  is  it  could  happen  every  night.  On  one  side 
of  me  a  prosperous  business  gentleman  respected 
by  all  Barking,  and  on  the  other  side  of  me  a  man 
just  setting  out  on  the  ocean  of  life — I  think  I'll 
shut  the  shop  !  " 

He  did  so,  to  the  astonishment  of  Tamplin 
Street,  which  confidently  predicted  that  the  pro- 
posed marriage  was  "  off  "  and  that  Selina  had 
taken  to  her  bed.  Returning,  he  marvelled  anew 
to  find  that  Mr.  Casswade  had  actually  conde- 
scended to  re-open  the  conversation  in  his  absence. 

**  I  was  jest  tellin'  your  daughter's  young  man,'* 
Casswade  said,  pointing  his  pipe  as  at  a  prize  pig 
up  for  auction,  "  that,  on  second  thoughts,  he 
can't  do  anythin'  better  than  buy  a  bis'ness  that's 
goin'  to  pieces,  work  it  up,  sell  it  at  a  big  profit, 
and  buy  another  o'  the  same  sort — keep  on,  in 
fact,  like  a  bloomin'  rollin'  snowball.  I'd  start 
the  game  myself  to-morrow,  if  I  wanted  money. 
There's  no  brains  required — that's  the  beauty  of 
it — jest  suit  him  down  to  the  ground." 

*'  It  is,  indeed,"  agreed  Mr.  Shadd,  with  dubious 
enthusiasm.     **  What  does  George  say  to  it  ?  " 

"  It's  great — absolutely  great,  I  think,"  was 
Baversham's  unexpected  reply.  "  In  fact,  I  can't 
see  any  hitch  in  it.  Let's  see  1  You  buy  the 
bis'ness  as  it's  goin'  to  pieces,  work  it  up — how, 
did  you  say  you  worked  it  up?"  he  broke  off, 
innocently. 

If  he  had  intended  this  as  a  sarcasm  indirect,  he 
was  baulked.  Mr.  Casswade  had  evidently  awaited 
it. 

"Ah,  there  you  are,"  he  said,  his  hand  out. 


LOW    SOCIETY  143 

**  That's  where  experience  comes  in  again.  / 
shouldn't  make  any  bones  about  it.  The  way  to 
do  a  thing  is,  to  do  it.     Ain't  it?  " 

*'  Decidedly,"  confirmed  Mr.  Shadd.  It  really 
began  to  appear  now  as  if  Casswade  was  about 
to  succeed  where  others  had  signally  failed — i.e., 
in  gleaning  from  young  Baversham  some  valuable 
details  as  to  his  mysterious  nest-egg,  and  as  to 
Selina's  influence  upon  its  future  development. 
**  Most  decidedly.  If  I  had  had  the  benefit  of 
such  advice  when  I  began  as  a  shop-keeper,  I 
might  be  able  to  offer  you  gentlemen  something 
stronger  than  three -and -ninepenny  Scotch  to- 
night. George,  I  don't  think  you'll  need  to  go 
consulting  any  of  these  swindling  solicitors  or 
agents,  after  all."  And  Casswade  took  his 
cue. 

**  It's  banked,  I  s'pose?  "  he  enquired.  "  One 
o'  these  'ere  local  banks  ?  You  wouldn't  keep  a 
sum  o'  money  o'  that  sort  lyin'  about  in  a  lodgin* 
house." 

**  It's  not  a  lodgin'-house,"  George  replied,  just 
as  casually.  **  It's  quite  private.  Selina's  seen 
it.  I  haven't  taken  her  inside,  'cause  I've  got  no 
convenience  for  company,  as  you  might  say  ;  and, 
again,  I  thought  Mr.  Shadd  might  not  like  it." 

"  I  shouldn't,"  said  Mr.  Shadd,  solemnly.  "  And 
I'm  glad  to  know,  Baversham,  that  you  have  such 
respect  for  my  dau " 

"Bosh,"  put  in  Casswade,  with  disgust. 
**  Bosh.     She's  been  inside." 

"Has  she?"  Mr.  Shadd  stared  towards 
George.     "  Is  that  right?  " 

"  Ask  her,"  said  George,  whose  reticence  could 


144  LOW    SOCIETY 

not  be  construed  as  shy  reserve,  at  all  events. 
And  Casswade  laughed  boisterously. 

*'  Course  she  has.  Sit  down,  you  fool  ;  you 
dunno  what  I  mean — you've  got  such  a  bloomin* 
evil  mind,  you  have.  Wouldn't  any  natural  girl 
hop  in  now  and  again  to  see  her  future  husband's 
golden  sovereigns  all  spread  out,  and  tell  him  what 
a  lovin',  careful  feller  he  is,  and " 

**  Excuse  me,"  said  Mr.  Shadd,  slowly,  *-  but 
George  has  just  told  us  that  his  money's  safely 
banked.  He's  not  a  miser,  hoarding  up  a  few 
pounds  under  the  bed — at  least,  I  believe  not." 

*'  Ah,  yes,  I  forgot.  But  you're  all  wrong  about 
his  bein'  able  to  do  without  a  lawyer.  He  can't, 
not  in  anythin',  or  he's  bound  to  be  dutched  by 
the  other  man's  lawyer.  And  no  matter  what  it's 
to  be — a  bis'ness,  investment,  marriage  settlement, 
or  what  not — he  couldn't  do  better  than  see  the 
one  I  employ  for  everythin'  —  the  best  in  all 
Barkin',  sirs.  Remember  that  I  It's  all  private 
and  confidential  there,  and  no  big  fees  if  no  re- 
sults. And  I  reckon  a  girl  like  Selina's  worth 
legal  protection,  in  case  of  anythin'.  Lots  o' 
smart  fellers  have  died  the  day  after  '  their 
weddin*." 

A  pause.  **  I'll  take  his  name,  if  you  don't 
mind,"  George  said,  then.  *'  You  never  know, 
do  you?  " 

**  That's  sense  I  "  They  nodded  at  each  other 
significantly.  "  That's  sense,  if  you  like,"  Cass- 
wade repeated.  And  he  proceeded  to  scrawl  some- 
thing ponderously  upon  a  slip  of  paper.  "  There 
you  are,  Mr. — er — Bavercock,  ain't  it? — I  shall 
never  lay  hold  o'  that  name.     Trust  any  money 


LOW    SOCIETY  145 

matter  to  that  man,  and  he'll  lick  it  into  shape  in 
no  time,  and  leave  no  loophole.  That's  where 
the  cutest  amateur  lawyer  gets  sucked  in  :  his 
contracts  are  as  full  o'  loopholes — for  the  opposite 
party  —  as  a  tuppenny  cullender."  He  drained 
down  his  glass  of  refreshment,  evidently  ignoring 
the  risk  of  an  aftermath  now.  It  was  perfectly 
astonishing  how  the  situation  had  veered  from 
storm  to  calm  by  imperceptible  degrees. 
**  S'posin',  now,  you  wanted  to  fly  a  bit  higher,  and 
saw  a  tasty  concern  goin'  cheap — for  two  hundred 
pounds,  we'll  say,  so  as  to  leave  a  decent  margin 
o'  reserve  in  the  bank — eh?  " 

'*  Yes,  we'll  say  that,  for  example,"  George  said, 
without  any  visible  breath -catch.  They  glanced 
at  each  other  again. 

**  Right  you  are  !  Two  hundred  down  for  the 
bis'ness,  and  a  hundred  in  the  bank  as  reserve — 
that's  after  you've  paid  for  your  furniture  and 
weddin'  expenses,  I'm  assumin',  of  course?  " 

"  Oh,  of  course  !  "  He  had  not  even  flinched 
or  turned  red.  Mr.  Shadd  felt  he  could  hug  Cass- 
wade  round  the  neck . 

**  Jest  so."  Casswade  turned  to  Selina's  father, 
to  outline  the  position  with  a  definite  clearness 
from  which  Baversham  could  not  retreat.  **  Are 
you  followin'  us  ?  Selina's  young  man,  as  he  says, 
has  a  matter  o'  three  hundred  clear  after  buy  in' 
the  home,  etc.  It's  not  much,  but  it's  somethin* 
for  a  start,   isn't  it?  " 

*'  Oh,  yes  1  "  said  Mr.  Shadd,  rising  loftily  to 
the  occasion.  *'  It's  not  as  if  my  daughter  was  an 
expensive  woman  to  dress,  or  anything  of  that. 
If,  by  the  time  they're  made  man  and  wife,  George 

L.s.  i^ 


146  LOW    SOCIETY 

can  see  his  way  to  a  round  five  hundred — or  even 
four  hundred,  odd — I  think  they've  every  hope  of 
happiness  in  the  future.  Of  course,  if  it  had  been 
anything  much  below  that  figure — well,  that  would 
be  different  in  a  sense,  would  it  not?  " 

Both  held  their  breath,  and  looked  away  from 
George  this  time. 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  it  would,"  he  reflected,  with 
just  a  hint  of  dogged  resignation  to  fate  that  was 
not  altogether  to  Mr.  Shadd's  liking.  **  Yes,  I 
quite  see  the  force  of  what  you  both  say.  Selina's 
been  brought  up  in  a  rather  superior  style,  of 
course.*' 

"  She's  never  been  pinched  for  a  penny,  I  assure 
you,"  said  Mr.   Shadd.      *'  No,  never." 

"  And  she  won't  be  that,  when  she's  my  wife,  I 
assure  you,''  Baversham  returned,  quietly.  He 
looked  at  his  watch,  and  then  toward  the  staircase. 
'*  Time's  gettin'  on,  I  see.  You  didn't  quite 
finish  that  part  about  workin'  up  the  bis'ness  to 
sell  it  at  a  quick  profit,  did  you?  " 

"  Well,  no."  Casswade  took  the  pipe  from  his 
mouth  in  surprise.  "  There's  no  need.  A  man 
with  over  five  hundred  to  start  on  wouldn't  want 
to  waste  hisself  on  that  low-down  snatch -and - 
run  game.  He'd  buy  somethin'  respectable  as  a 
goin'  concern  for  life." 

**  Quite  so,"  said  George.  "  All  the  same,  I'd 
like  to  hear — in  case.  I  know  you  take  an  in- 
terest in  Selina  and  me." 

Narrowly  Casswade  watched,  but  no  muscle 
twitched  in  the  freckled  face. 

'*  Well,"  he  had  to  say,  with  an  indifferent  wave 
of  his  pipe,  **  you  can  have  it  in  a  bloomin'  nut- 


LOW    SOCIETY  147 

shell,  come  to  that.  It's  my  own  theory,  and  any 
schoolboy  could  work  it  out  to  any  extent  in  prac- 
tice. You've  got  a  shop-winder,  ain't  you? — and 
you've  got  to  draw  the  crowd,  or  go  under,  ain't 
you?  Very  well.  Do  somethin'  that  no  other 
shopkeeper's  do  in*  in  your  neighbourhood  — 
Beckton  or  Barkin'  or  Timbuctoo,  if  you  like. 
Make  yourself  out  a  fraud  and  fool,  and  get  talked 
about,  and  the  thing's  done." 

"  That's  smart,"  George  said,  cleverly  con- 
cealing his  denseness.  **  I  like  the  idea  im- 
mensely.    Er — how  would  you  go  about  it?  " 

**  As  I  say.  All  shopkeepers  live  on  lies,  don't 
they  ?  You  tell  the  bloomin'  truth — and  in  swarms 
your  custom,  if  only  jest  to  look  at  you.  Shadd 
here — yes,  Shadd  1 — bungs  a  cask  o'  cheap  butter 
in  his  winder,  and  marks  it  :  '  Oh,  Ma  I — like 
cream  1  Is  that  what  the  German  Emp'ror  has  ?* 
You  mark  yours  :  *  The  worst  muck  in  Barking — 
prove  it  for  yourself.'  You  shove  up  a  sack  o' 
white  sugar,  and  on  it  a  ticket  :  *  Look  at  this  lot 
—  positive  bleed'n  rubbish  —  three  parts  sand  !  * 
This  lyin'  Shadd  here  marks  his  penny  eggs  *  new 
laid,'  and  his  ha'penny  stinkers  *  fine  breakfast.* 
You  don't.  You  chalk  *em  up  :  '  Warranted  laid 
last  year — take  'em  or  leave  'em.*  If  it's  meat, 
you  hang  out  a  decent  joint,  and  ticket  it  :  *  Eat 
off  this  rotten  carcase,  and  you're  a  dead  man.' 
If  it's  fish,  you  write  on  your  shrimps  :  *  Bloomin* 
sea  scavengers — speak  for  *emselves  '  ;  and  on 
your  haddicks  :  *  Gawd  knows  when  these  were 
caught — I  on'y  smoked  'em.'  And  so  on.  And 
there  you  are.  If  that  ain't  plain,  I  dunno  what 
is." 

L  2 


148  LOW    SOCIETY 

Following  Mr.  Shadd's  prolonged  gasp,  there 
was  a  pause,  while  young  Baversham  sat  stroking 
his  chin.  Presumably  he  was  compelling  a  mental 
picture  of  a  shop  with  its  wares  thus  labelled,  and 
the  scope  in  language  such  descriptions  offered 
to  a  man  of  ideas. 

••  H'm,"  he  said,  at  length.  "I  s*pose  it 
wouldn't  do  for  Mr.  Shadd  to  give  it  a  trial  and 
see  how  it  works — on  Selina's  future  account,  as 
you  might  say — if  it  means  money?  " 

Mr.  Shadd  stared  blankly.  Casswade  came 
dexterously  to  his  rescue. 

'*  Not  on  no  account.  And  I'll  tell  you  why. 
People  'ud  instantly  up  and  say  he'd  done  it 
*cause  he  couldn't  sell  his  stuff  any  other  way." 

"  Well,  and  mightn't  they  say  the  same  of 
me?  "  queried  the  obtuse  Baversham. 

"  Pah  I  "  With  a  snort  of  disgust  Casswade  got 
up.  '*  It's  no  use  talkin'  to  a  man  like  you. 
Thickest  bloomin'  head  I  ever  come  across,  if 
you'll  excuse  me.     I'm  off." 

**  So  am  I,"  said  George,  reaching  out  for  his 
hat  and  looking  toward  the  staircase  again. 

"I'll  call  her,"  Mr.  Shadd  whispered,  loudly 
enough  for  Casswade  to  hear. 

**  G'night,"  muttered  the  latter  abruptly  ;  and 
Mr.  Shadd  followed  him  to  unlock  the  shop  door. 
"Well,  are  you  satisfied?"  Casswade  demanded, 
as  he  stepped  down  to  the  pavement.  "  D'you 
think  I've  heaped  coals  o'  fire  on  your  bloomin' 
head,  after  comin'  here  to  break  it  ?  " 

"'Shi  They'll  hear.  Satisfied?"  Shadd 
wrung  his  hand  with  as  near  an  approach  to 
ecstacy  as  the  bit  of  privacy  permitted.     "  You've 


LOW    SOCIETY  149 

done  it.  You're  a  genius.  And  I  call  it  won- 
derful, after  the  spiteful  way  they've  served  you. 
I  shan't  forget  it.  So  we  know,  at  least,  that  he's 
got  between  four  and  five  hundred  pounds  put 
by — not  that  I  think  any  more  of  him  as  a  husband 
on  that  account " 

"  Oh,  no  !  "  put  in  Casswade,  with  his  short 
laugh.  "  T'other  way  about,  o*  course.  She 
don't  want  any  dirty  lucre — no  more  do  you. 
G'night  1  " 

**  When  might  we  see  you  again?  "  Mr.  Shadd 
sent  after  him,  in  an  anxious  whisper. 

"When?  Ah,  I  dunno.  I  shan't  say.  All 
depends.     Got  to  see  how  the  wind  blows." 

And  he  moved  at  a  slow,  portentous  roll  down 
the  street. 


CHAPTER    XIII 

Despite  the  fact  that  the  amount  of  daylight 
per  twenty-four  hours  was  fast  lessening,  and  that 
many  builders  pushing  their  brick-and -mortar  ten- 
tacles out  into  the  Essex  wilds  had  practically 
suspended  operations,  work  on  the  New  Eden 
estate  proceeded  apace.  **  Make  'ay  while  the 
blessed  sun  shines,"  was  Mr.  Casswade's  some- 
what paradoxical  axiom  now.  He  had  none  of 
the  traditional  dread  of  the  frost's  action  upon 
his  layers  of  cement  ;  or,  if  he  had,  he  sank  it 
in  the  interests  of  those  who  sought  to  begin 
life  decently  by  buying  a  stylish  villa  at  rubbish 
price. 

All  day  long  the  tinkle  of  trowels  and  unloading 
of  carts  enlivened  the  monotony  of  the  grey  days 
in  Mandalay  Gardens.  And  late  at  night,  fre- 
quently, the  dull  banging  of  a  hammer  indicated 
that  Josh,  the  foreman,  with  nine  children  to 
rear,  was  putting  in  a  spell  of  lonely  overtime. 

To  Hungerford's  Ella,  when  she  sat  at  her 
needlework  in  the  bijou  back  bedroom,  the  mush- 
room-like growth  of  that  row  of  houses  beyond 
her  rear  fence  was  at  once  fascinating  and  awe- 
some. The  stark  walls  rose  from  their  founda- 
tions with  a  swiftness  that,  hard  as  she  tried  to 
force  it,  would  not  convey  an  impression  of  sta- 
bility or  endurance.  The  moving  figures  of  Cass- 
wade's   workmen,    as    they    mounted    higher    and 


LOW    SOCIETY  151 

higher  toward  her  own  level  and  above  it,  did  not 
suggest  any  especial  celerity  or  enthusiasm  ;  they 
often  halted,  indeed,  to  take  leisurely  survey  of 
the  "  washing  "  blown  about  in  gardens  below, 
and  to  shout  to  each  other  criticisms  of  a  frankness 
that  made  Ella's  cheeks  burn.  Nevertheless,  the 
scaffolding  levels  rose  as  by  magic  ;  a  second 
wall  reared  itself  upon  the  lower  ;  in  a  few  days, 
as  it  seemed,  the  outer  shell  of  something  with  a 
minimum  existence  of  ninety  -  nine  years  had 
evolved  itself  out  of  nothingness. 

The  whole  process,  in  the  concrete  and  in  the 
abstract,  had  a  magnetism  for  Hungerford's  Ella 
which  she  could  not  have  analysed.  For  the 
greater  part  of  each  day,  now,  she  was  alone,  and 
this  rear  outlook  was  her  horizon — gradually  being 
blotted  out.  As  she  sewed,  she  thought  and 
thought  ;  and  into  some  subjects  a  woman's 
thoughts  go  deeper  than  a  man's. 

Sometimes  she  found  her  lip  quivering  un- 
accountably, an  odd  choke  after  choke  rising 
unawares  in  her  throat,  and  thrills  running  down 
her  body.  Nothing  could  explain  it  save  the  fact 
that  she  was  one  of  the  women  who  must  cling 
always  to  someone  stronger  than  themselves,  and 
to  whom  even  temporary  loneliness  suggests  the 
parting  that  at  one  day  must  come.  And  then  she 
would  pretend  to  have  lost  her  needle,  and  hunt  for 
it  diligently,  and  smile  to  herself  as  she  pictured 
Jim  seated  behind  some  high  desk  away  there  in 
the  City.  She  could  see  him,  working  with  a 
quiet  stubbornness,  and  looking  up  at  the  clock  at 
times,  and  running  those  long  white  fingers 
through  the  precious  dark  wave  of  hair  above  his 


152  LOW    SOCIETY 

forehead.  **  God  bless  him  ! — God  bring  him 
home  safe  again  !  "  she  would  say  ;  and  then  the 
silly  tears  would  come  with  a  rush,  and  she  had  to 
slip  down  to  her  knees,  and  thank  God  for  His 
abundant  mercy  in  allowing  her  Hungerf ord  the 
power  to  love  and  to  understand  which  had  been 
taken  from  Loney  out  there.  It  was  selfish,  and 
it  was  illogical  ;  but  it  was  very  human.  And  the 
dearest  and  truest  of  women  are  those  who  are 
very  human. 

Sometimes  Ella  was  a  mere  child  —  a  child 
thinking  in  the  night.  What  would  happen,  she 
asked  herself,  when  the  array  of  new  houses  out 
there  was  complete  in  every  detail  ? 

Casswade  had  given  out  that  he  should  build  no 
more  for  a  long  time  to  come  :  not  until  there 
were  signs  of  a  trade  revival  and  a  reduction  in 
the  price  of  raw  material — which  time,  he  said, 
looked  like  being  deferred  until  the  millennium,  as 
all  the  floating  cash  was  passing  into  the  hands 
of  a  few  Trusts  and  millionaires.  What  would 
become  of  Loney?  For  she  knew,  without  know- 
ing why,  that  by  some  queer  mental  process  Loney 
had  become  absorbed  in  the  construction  of  that 
particular  block  as  in  a  work  that  was  to  go  on 
for  ever.  He  was,  she  told  herself,  a  visionary 
who  saw  his  dream-palaces  taking  actual  shape  ; 
every  golden  brick,  every  silver  nail,  every  glit- 
tering chip,  called  for  his  nightly,  unrelaxed 
guardianship. 

This  implied  that  he  took  his  sleep  by  day.  Did 
he  ?  And  where  ?  And  how  did  he  exist  ?  Ella 
had  woven  about  him  a  mesh  of  feminine  fancies 
that  to  her  had  become  as  living  facts. 


LOW    SOCIETY  153 

Occasionally,  now,  he  made  an  appearance  in 
the  daytime.  It  was  in  the  nature  of  a  surprise 
visit,  stealthily  conceived  and  triumphantly  carried 
out.  He  appeared  as  from  nowhere,  his  hands 
clasped  behind  him,  his  head  thrown  back  to 
gauge  in  a  series  of  swift  glances  any  dereliction 
of  duty,  slipshod  workmanship,  or  flaw  in  the 
masonry  ;  but  Ella  had  made  him  out  standing 
tentatively  still  beforehand  behind  some  wall 
or  fence  near  at  hand.  Up  and  down  he  would 
walk,  peering  here,  feeling  there,  and  standing 
back  to  see  the  effect  in  perspective  of  the 
whole. 

Just  occasionally  Casswade's  workmen  turned  to 
look  at  him,  but  for  the  most  part  they  appeared 
to  her  singularly  indifferent.  Once,  indeed,  she 
had  seen  him  stride  toward  a  man  mixing  mortar, 
and  appear  to  identify  himself  with  the  actual 
operations.  She  could  catch  none  of  his  words, 
but  he  seemed  to  be  gesturing  with  an  air  of  fierce, 
strenuous  authority,  as  one  whose  policy  of  aloof- 
ness and  clemency  had  been  abused.  The  man — 
so  it  looked  to  her — gazed  back  at  him  with  mute 
stupefaction,  retreated  a  little  as  in  fear,  and  then 
went  in  search  of  Josh,  the  foreman.  She  could 
hear  nothing  of  what  passed,  but  on  the  surface  it 
appeared  that  Josh  merely  nodded,  smiled  his 
ghastly  little  inward  smile,  and  walked  away  as  if 
not  concerned  to  interfere.  Meanwhile,  Loney  re- 
sumed his  tour  of  inspection,  outwardly  detached 
from  the  scene,  but  inwardly  absorbed  by  thoughts 
concerning  its  future  that  no  one  else  could  hope 
to  share. 

So  it  happened  to-day.     The  fourth  house  rising 


154  LOW    SOCIETY 

as  by  wizardry  under  the  workmen's  hands  was 
almost  abreast  of  Hungerford's  garden — her  own 
garden.  She  lowered  her  needlework,  and  sat, 
with  parted  lips  and  shining  eyes,  watching  once 
again.  Once  again  she  seemed  to  be  reading  a 
deep  interpretation  into  trivial  byplay  that  to  other 
people  was  meaningless. 

Chink -chink  1  went  the  many  trowels.  Bang- 
bang  !  boomed  hammers.  Crash  !  came  down  a 
pile  of  flooring-boards  moved  out  of  someone's 
way.  Over  the  skeleton  roof  of  the  first  house 
three  men  were  crawling  like  huge  spiders,  nailing 
on  slates.  In  the  hollow  heart  of  the  second 
house  a  white -smocked  man  swung  himself  at  a 
rope-end  from  window-ledge  to  window-ledge,  to 
save  himself  the  trouble  of  descending.  A  boy, 
carrying  paint  -  pots  and  whistling  vociferously, 
walked  to  and  fro  with  the  apparent  object  of 
appearing  busy.  The  men  on  the  fourth  shell 
clapped  brick  on  to  brick  with  monotonous  regu- 
larity and  the  minimum  modicum  of  mortar  and 
energy  ;  while  on  the  far  left  of  the  site,  as  if 
praying  that  no  wind  would  spring  up  and  blow 
down  the  walls  before  a  sixth  house  arose  to  hold 
them  in  position,  stood  Casswade  himself,  just 
recognizable  at  this  distance.  Josh,  his  foreman, 
moved  laconically  in  and  out  of  the  carpenters' 
shed  that  he  had  erected  against  his  own  garden 
fence,  so  that  he  could  toss  into  safety  without 
fuss  all  the  chunks  of  timber  that  looked  useful 
for  firewood  or  other  private  purposes. 

Ella's  veering,  watchful  gaze  came  back  to 
focus  anew  the  speck  of  mystery  in  all  this  most 
prosaic  environment.     It  was  Loney,  neatly  garbed 


LOW    SOCIETY  155 

as  ever,  moving  from  bare  room  to  room  on  the 
new  lower  floors,  just  as  a  visitor  to  a  museum 
might  move  from  section  to  section.  Following 
up  her  woman's  train  of  fanciful  deductions,  she 
assured  herself  that  Mr.  Casswade,  comparatively- 
far  off  as  he  stood,  had  an  eye  upon  Loney,  too  ; 
and  in  this  connection  it  occurred  to  her  that,  as 
she  had  never  seen  the  two  men  in  close  proxi- 
mity, it  was  Casswade  who  purposely — perhaps 
scornfully — maintained  the  distance.  Ella  had 
never  spoken  of  it  to  the  neighbours — partly  be- 
cause she  regarded  the  subject  as  something 
vaguely,  darkly  pitiful,  and  partly  because  the 
neighbours  appeared  far  more  interested  in  the 
private  doings  of  herself  and  her  husband. 

The  blue  of  approaching  dusk  was  in  the  west. 
She  laid  by  her  work  on  an  impulse,  went  down- 
stairs, and  took  her  way  slowly  down  the  garden 
path.  At  the  end  was  a  pile  of  stones,  overgrown 
with  weeds  :  mounted  on  this,  she  might  gain  a 
closer  view  of  the  man  and  his  method,  if  only 
for  a  moment.  If  scarcely  dignified,  it  was 
scarcely  mean. 

To  disarm  neighbourly  curiosity,  she  paused  to 
scan  the  patch  which  Hungerford  had  really 
cleared,  dug  and  pulverized  by  herculean  efforts. 
With  deplorable  horticultural  instincts,  he  had 
showered  in  two  rows  of  flower-seeds  for  next 
Spring's  blossoming,  and  between  these,  barely 
two  inches  apart,  a  brave  array  of  small  cabbage - 
plants,  believed  to  be  broccoli — a  hundred  in  all, 
or  sufficient  to  stock  half  an  acre  of  ground. 
The  flower-seeds,  he  averred,  were  to  throw  off 
fine  showy  masses  of  spiked  bloom  of  a  tropical 


156  LOW    SOCIETY 

luxuriance — or  should  do  so,  according  to  the 
printed  specimen  ;  but  of  tlieir  appearance  above- 
ground  there  was  as  yet  no  visible  sign.  Ella 
stooped  with  a  little  cry  of  dismay  toward  the 
cabbage -plants. 

**  Oh,  Boy  !  "  she  said,  instantly  summoning 
him  to  her  side  in  thought.  The  leaves  were 
nearly  all  gone — nibbled  away.  "  Oh,  our  beau- 
tiful broccoli  I     What  shall  we  do?" 

She  looked  closely,  indignantly,  for  the  nibbling 
thieves,  but  could  see  no  trace  of  them.  There 
were  the  denuded  stalks,  sticking  up  pathetically 
toward  the  sky.     What  could  it  mean? 

Looking  round  as  for  inspiration,  she  caught 
sight  of  something  that  temporarily  obliterated 
the  tragedy  of  the  cabbages.  This  was  the 
tragedy  in  a  woman's  face — the  wan,  careworn 
face,  three  gardens  lower  down,  of  the  woman 
employed  by  Casswade  to  clean  down  the  new 
houses  in  readiness  for  tenants.  Seeing  nothing, 
caring  nothing,  this  woman  had  come  staggering 
out  at  the  rear  to  empty  one  of  her  eternal  pails 
of  dirty  water. 

"  Poor  soul  I  "  Ella  said  to  herself,  wistfully. 
She  had  said  it  often  before  to-day. 

She  stood  awhile,  listening  to  the  intermittent 
boom  from  the  practice -guns  away  across  the  river, 
and  then  flitted  suddenly  back  indoors.  To  be 
able  to  do  something  unexpected  for  somebody, 
and  see  the  glad  wonder,  gave  Hungerford's  Ella 
as  much  real  delight  as  finding  a  sovereign  in 
the  street  ;  and  the  feminine  mind  in  doubt  in- 
variably flies  to  a  cup  of  hot  tea.  Within  ten 
minutes  she  had  a  small  jugful  prepared,  wrapped 


LOW    SOCIETY  157 

it  in  a  snowy  cloth,  piA  on  her  hat,  and  slipped 
from  the  front  door. 

"  Where  are  you?  "  she  called,  peering  into  the 
shadowy  depths  of  Number  Thirteen.  "'  Where 
are  you?  "  And  the  sound  of  a  scrubbing-brush 
was  suspended. 

'*  Who's  that?  "  called  back  a  quavering,  life- 
less voice. 

"  Only  me,"  said  Ella,  making  her  way  to  the 
rear  parlour — no,  the  dining-room.  "  How  are 
you  to-day  ?  I  saw  you  were  hard  at  work,  and 
hurrying  ;  so  I  brought  you  in  a  nice  cup  of  tea." 

'*  Lord  save  us  !"  muttered  the  woman,  kneeling 
back.  It  was  already  semi -dark  in  here,  and  Ella 
could  hardly  see  her  face.  "  You're  the  lady  at 
Number  Nine,  aren't  you?  This  for  me?"  She 
took  it  eagerly.  "  I  never  expected  nothin'  till 
past  eight  o'clock  to-night." 

"I'm  so  sorry,"  whispered  Ella,  standing  still 
and  looking  down  at  her.  **  Have  you  so  much 
more  to  do  ?  " 

"  I've  done  all  the  upstairs  and  the  winders, "- 
said  the  woman,  pushing  the  thin  hair  back  from 
her  eyes.  **  I  must  finish  the  downstairs  and 
some  o'  the  paint  before  I  go.  You  don't  mind 
me  keepin'  on,  ma'am  ;  I  don't  want  to  burn  the 
candle  more'n  I  can  help." 

"  Oh,  no— no  !  ....  Oh,  isn't  it  dreadful  !  "■ 
Ella  said,  half  to  herself,  as  she  watched  the  bony 
arm  going  to  and  fro  over  boards  into  which 
workmen's  feet  had  ground  mortar  and  mud  in 
layers,  and  thought  of  a  life  spent  in  doing  it . 

"I'm  s 'posed  to  be  lucky,  ma'am,  to  get  the 
work,"   panted  the  woman.      **  I   shouldn't,   only 


158  LOW    SOCIETY 

my  husban*  dropped  from  a  scafifold— before  the 
Compensation  Act  come  in.  There's  a  stool  in 
the  corner,  ma'am  ;  you  needn't  stand." 

"Your  husband?"  repeated  Ella,   quiveringly. 

Swish-swish-swish,  went  the  brush  over  the 
awful  boards.  This  room  was  one  of  the  tiny 
squares  which  went  to  make  up  the  whole  vast 
mosaic  of  Life.  The  woman,  pausing  only  at 
times  to  dash  back  her  hair,  had  lost  every  soft, 
womanly  curve  from  her  shape — spoke  and  moved, 
indeed,  as  if  she  had  forgotten  she  was  a  woman. 

**  Light  your  candle,"  Ella  said.  "  I  will  bring 
you  in  one  of  my  own." 

She  did  so,  and  rested  a  moment. 

**  Yes,  Mr.  Casswade's  reckoned  as  good  as  they 
make  'em,"  she  said,  dully,  looking  into  space. 
**  He  lets  me  do  all  his  houses  for  three  shillings. 
He  could  get  hundreds  to  do  it  for  two -and -nine. 
On'y  sometimes  I  get  that  dead-beat  I  don't  know 
what  I'm  doin',  and  dazed  in  the  empty  rooms, 
and  forget  all  about  my  food,  and  can  only  just 
stagger  back  home  into  Barking — to  another  empty 
room — another  empty  room  !  " 

She  gave  a  hollow  cry  that  might  have  been 
meant  for  either  a  laugh  or  a  sob,  and  swooped 
again  to  her  scrubbing.  Ella,  in  awe,  had  thought 
she  was  about  to  fall  forward  in  collapse. 

"  Yes,"  Ella  went  on  hurriedly,  for  the  sake  of 
saying  something  cheery.  **  I  think  most  people 
like  Mr.  Casswade,  although  he  appears  a  little 
— blunt.     My  husband  does,  for  one." 

"  Ah  I  "  said  the  woman,  her  bent  head  swaying 
doggedly  with  her  brush.  **  Ah  !"  she  said,  again. 
Exactly  what  she  meant,  was  not  to  be  known. 


LOW    SOCIETY  159 

The  tea  had  been  drunk.  Yet  Ella  felt  con- 
strained by  some  sort  of  sympathy  to  linger, 
moving  a  little  from  time  to  time  as  the  black 
ooze  eddied  to  her  feet.  Presently  the  woman 
threw  back  her  head  and  gave  a  sharp,  deep 
cough  on  one  note — like  the  sudden  ripping  of  a 
new  calico  sheet. 

"  Oh  I  "  Ella  breathed.  But  the  woman  had 
gone  on  with  her  work.  Only  in  this  moment, 
inconsequently  enough,  Ella  grasped  the  inner 
meaning  of  the  truism  that  we  begin  to  die  the 
moment  we  are  born. 

Ella  was  aware  suddenly  of  outer  silence.  The 
clink  of  trowels  and  thud  of  hammers  out  there 
had  ceased.  In  a  mere  few  minutes,  it  seemed, 
the  darkness  had  closed  in,  and  already  the  candle 
light  gave  the  room  and  their  two  figures  a  fan- 
tastic, Rembrandt -like  appearance.  The  voice  of 
a  man  in  the  roadway  behind,  proclaiming  that  he 
had  lily-white  celery,  fit  for  a  king,  sounded  quite 
out  of  place.  Ella,  in  the  November  twilight, 
had  often  to  pause  to  realize  that  the  flare  and 
hubbub  of  Barking  Town  lay  quite  close  at 
hand. 

"  Yes,  he's  there  still — I  can  see  him,"  Ella 
said,  to  herself.  Then,  on  one  of  her  quick  im- 
pulses, she  craned  down  toward  the  woman. 
"  What  is  he  really?  Who  is  he?  Have  you  ever 
heard  ?     Loney  !  ** 

The  woman's  brush  came  to  a  halt.  She  did 
not  look  up.  "Don't  you  know?''  she  asked, 
in  dull   surprise. 

"Know?  I  have  never  liked  to  ask  anyone — 
until  now." 


i6o  LOW    SOCIETY 

"That  he's  mad?" 

"  Yes,  they  told  me  that.     But " 

*' And  dumb.     '11  never  speak  again." 

"  Dumb  !  " 

"  He  had  a  stroke.  I  thought  everyone  knew 
that  much."  The  woman  sat  back,  shaking  her 
cloth  thoughtfully.  **  You  wouldn't  think  he'd 
been  a  rich  man — richer  far  than  Casswade — 
would  you?  "  she  mused.  **  But  he  was,  not  two 
years  ago.  Those  were  all  his  houses,  you  know, 
right  out  over  there."  She  pointed  out  into  the 
night  vaguely.  "  This  buildin',  you  know,  has 
made  some  men,  and  ruined  a  lot  more.  He  got 
the  craze,  started  runnin'  'em  up  in  rows,  and 
was  lettin'  'em  so  fast  he  pushed  up  whole 
streets  of  'em.  Then  someone  started  a  rumour, 
and  spread  it." 

"  Who?  "  breathed  Ella,  thrilled  without  know- 
ing  why. 

**  No  one  knows  that.  P'r'aps  another  builder 
who'd  got  jealous.  You  mustn't  say.  There's  a 
lot  of  ins -and -outs,  I've  heard.  He  couldn't  *  let  * 
'em,  of  a  sudden,  and  it  happened  he  couldn't 
pay  all  his  men  one  day  for  want  o'  ready  money, 
rich  as  he  was.  That  did  it — you'd  be  surprised 
what  a  little  thing  it  takes  to  do  it.  Just  say  the 
word  *  drains,'  for  instance,  as  if  you'd  heard 
somethin',  and  it  flies  all  over  the  place.  Any- 
way, his  nerves  gave  way  a  bit,  as  I've  heard,  and 
the  houses  got  a  *  haunted  '  look.  It  was  the  talk 
for  miles — talk  o'  suicide,  bankruptcy,  and  all 
manner.  Someone  was  rollin'  the  ball  for  him, 
that's  certain.  Then  his  own  agents  started  to 
cheat  him,  and  took  the  wrong  sort  o'  tenants. 


LOW    SOCIETY  i6i 

These  houses  won't  stand  a  lot  o'  noisy  men  and 
women  fightin'  and  what  not  in  'em  night  after 
night.  Besides,  the  Council  come  down  on  him. 
Somehow,  he  lost  heart  and  went   *  broke  to  the 

world/   as  they  say Yes,   when  he   got 

up  from  his  bed,  he  was  dumb,  and  his  mind  had 
gone." 

"Had  he  a  wife?"  Ella  whispered,  in  the 
brief  pause. 

**  No  ;  but  a  mother.  Ain't  you  ever  seen  her? 
She  comes  now  and  then  with  his  food,  when  he 
forgets  to  go  home.  Quite  a  lady  in  her  way — 
as  he  was  a  gentleman.  Yes,  you'll  see  her 
watchin'  him  here  late  at  night.  He  doesn't 
know  her,  or  doesn't  want  to  know  her,  and  takes 
the  food  as  a  dog  might,  and  she  bursts  out 
cryin',  and  goes  away.  That's  the  funny  part  of 
it."  The  woman  shifted  cramped  limbs,  and  bent 
slowly  to  her  boards  again.  "  Casswade  used  to 
pay  a  night  watchman,  but  Loney  saves  him  that 
now.  Even  the  boys  don't  come  tryin'  to  steal 
wood  and  stuff,  as  they  used  to.  No  one  takes 
any  notice  now  ;  he  does  just  what  he  likes.  But, 
as  I  say,  that's,  the  funny  part  of  it." 

"What  is?" 

**  Why  " — she  turned  to  dash  back  her  hair  and 
motion  out  through  the  window  beyond — "  when 
he  got  up,  he'd  forgotten  all  'cept  the  one  thing — 
that  he'd  begun  on  a  new  block  o'  villas  himself, 
just  as  the  one  you're  lookin'  at  might  be.  The 
first  time  he  came  out  of  doors,  he  saw  Casswade 's 
fresh  start  there  ;  and  he's  hardly  left  it  since. 
What  can  anyone  say  or  do  ?  He  thinks  they^re 
hlsr 

L.S.  M 


CHAPTER    XIV 

**  Some  men  are  ever  so  much  more  affectionate 
than  others,  don't  you  think?  "  observed  Selina 
Shadd,  with  another  twist  of  the  small  handker- 
chief she  invariably  plucked  and  pulled  between 
her  hands  when  out  walking. 

**  I  do  think/'  was  Baversham's  non-committal 
reply.  "  If  you  go  a  bit  farther,  you'll  notice  some 
men  are  dark  and  some  ginger  ;  and  some  are  all 
right  and  some  are  rotters.  You'll  make  a  rabbit 
o'  that  blessed  handkerchief  soon." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  mean  that  exactly  ;  and  you  know 
it.     Only  you're  so " 

She  set  her  lips  and  gave  the  handkerchief  quite 
a  spiteful  tug.  It  was  not  so  much  that  she  re- 
sented George's  limitations  in  grammar  and  style  ; 
but  his  inability  or  refusal  to  put  on  a  spice  of  the 
grand  manner  even  when  they  passed  down  Bark- 
ing's crowded  streets — to  say  nothing  of  his  prac- 
tical and  cautious  restraint  upon  himself  when  they 
were,  as  now,  in  the  partial  obscurity  of  the  field- 
land  beyond  —  certainly  constituted  a  standing 
grievance.  Selina,  albeit  reared  in  Barking  Town, 
had  expected  in  her  own  lover  at  least  a  touch  of 
the  courtly  romance  exhaled  by  novels  wherein 
men  with  a  daffodil -like  droop  of  the  head  leaned 
over  willowy  women  in  languorous  warmth  and 
grace.  And  Baversham  seemed  never  even  to 
have  heard  of  it. 


LOW    SOCIETY  163 

"  Well,  go  on,"  he  said.     "  Out  with  it." 

'*  What  I  mean  is,  that  some  men  are  not  afraid 
to  show,  either  in  public  or  private,  just  what  they 
feel.  It  only  struck  me,  that's  all.  It  doesn't 
matter  to  me  in  the  least." 

"  Some  men  aren't  afraid,  I  admit,"  said 
George,  with  a  little  heave  of  his  shoulders — 
perhaps  thinking  of  young  Sanders.  **  Some  '11 
show  jest  what  they  feel  anyhow  and  anywhere, 
and  then  do  a  bolt.  Yes,  I  know  the  sort  you 
mean.  We  can  all  come  that  caper,  if  we  want. 
That  sort  never  marry." 

Selina  flicked  him  over  the  lips  with  the  hand- 
kerchief,  half  playfully,   half   scornfully. 

"  It  doesn't  matter  what  I  say,"  she  remarked, 
**  you  always  seem  to  take  up  a  nasty  opposite 
view.  At  least,  you've  always  got  a  back-hander 
ready.  I  don't  know  what  some  women  would 
think  of  you  for  a  lover — at  least,  I  do  know." 

**  What  do  you  want  me  to  do  ?  "  he  was  stung 
to  asking,  pointedly.  "  Keep  kissin*  you  every 
step  we  take,  or  what?  If  I'm  a  fool,  I  don't 
want  to  look  it.  I've  had  my  arm  round  you  this 
last   ten  minnits — isn't   that   enough?" 

Apparently  it  was  too  much — or  else  Selina 
had  been  unconscious  of  the  familiarity.  With  a 
stiffening  movement  she  abruptly  withdrew  from 
the  coil.  In  so  doing,  she  overstepped  the  edge 
of  the  narrow  path  through  marshy  land  along 
which  they  were  sauntering,  and  her  right  foot 
sank  well  over  the  ankle  into  something  with 
an  octopus -like  power  of  suction.  Selina  stood 
desperately  still,  and  waited,  her  face  flaming 
orange    colour    and    then    going    pale.      It    said 

M  2 


1 64  LOW    SOCIETY 

plainly  that  if  he  had  not  at  least  sufficient  gal- 
lantry to  extricate  her  without  being  asked,  in 
that  position  she  would  end  her  days. 

**  Silly  I  "  said  George,  pulling  at  her  abruptly, 
and  then  lifting  her  skirt.  "  That's  a  bit  o' 
temper,  that  is.    You've  spoilt  a  good  boot." 

"  Oh,  I've  plenty  more  at  home,"  she  replied, 
biting  her  lip  to  keep  back  anything  like  a  sob. 
**  You  won't  have  to  pay  for  it.  Leave  my  dress 
alone,  please." 

"  Well,  I  didn't  want  to  come  this  way,  did 
I?"  he  hedged. 

"  Did  I  ?  "  Selina  flashed  back. 

**  Well,  I  dunno  ;  but  we  always  do  seem  to 
come  this  way,  lately,  don't  we?  " 

*'  You're  a  pig,  as  I  told  you  once  before,"  she 
said,  burstingly.  "  Keep  away  I  You're  not  a 
man  at  all,  but  a  cold  pig." 

"Oh,  am  I?"  George  drew  up  obediently. 
**  Then  I'd  better  turn  round  and  get  back  to  my 
stye,  if  that's  the   case." 

'*  Go  1  "  she  shouted.  '*  Yes,  go  !  "  A  man 
in  a  derelict  barge  in  a  waterway  near  by  held 
his  breath  in  hopes  of  witnessing  something  really 
exciting. 

He  was  cheated — maybe  through  Baversham's 
very  lack  of  romantic  amour  pro  pre.  As  Selina 
flounced  on  ahead,  tugging  at  her  handkerchief, 
George  squared  his  shoulders  and  went  after  her. 
Apparently  Selina  did  not  hear  him  coming.  She 
looked  dumbfounded  to  find  her  waist  suddenly 
enclosed  again.  Realizing,  she  made  a  strenuous 
effort  to  tear  the  arm  away  ;  but  George  seldom 
allowed  things  to  become  downright  dramatic. 


LOW    SOCIETY  165 

**  Let  it  alone/'  he  said,  masterfully.  **  Let  it 
alone,  and  don't  be  silly.  You're  jest  like  a 
woman,  'pon  my  word,  you  are." 

'*  Very  good."  Selina's  voice  would  just  sound. 
It  was  really  a  tight  and  affectionate  clutch  this 
time.  *'  As  you  will.  But — but  one  of  these  days 
you  may  call  me  back  too  late." 

**  I  like  that,"  he  replied,  unmoved.  **  I  haven't 
called  you  back.  You  called  me  somethin' — that's 
all  I  know  about  it.  And  thank  your  stars  you 
didn't  mean  it,  and  can't  help  showin'  off  now  and 
again,  like  all  the  women." 

**  We — we'll  quarrel,  if  you  wish,"  Selina  said, 
gaspingly.     And  George  laughed. 

"  You  mean,  you'd  like  to,  for  a  change  ;  but 
I'm  not  goin*  to  let  you.  Don't  forget  this  :  if 
it's  *  off  '  between  us  once — only  once — it's  *  off  ' 
for  evermore.  I  don't  come  any  snivellin'  and 
moanin'  outside  your  father's  door." 

"No  I  Not  having  any  heart  to  feel,  it's  all 
the  same  to  you  whether  you  marry  a  real  woman 
or  a  slut,  so  long  as  your  meals  are  got  and  your 
clothes  strung  together  somehow." 

"  It's  nothin'  o'  that,"  said  George.  Selina, 
as  regarded  reality,  was  what  is  known  as  a  fine, 
blooming  girl,  all  curve  and  contour,  beside  whom 
her  young  man  had  a  flat,  weedy,  almost  insigni- 
ficant appearance  ;  but  he  held  on  with  a  grim 
tenacity  that  atoned  for  much.  '*  It's  simply  that 
I  look  on  marriage  as  a  bis'ness  arrangement 
quite  as  much  as  a  spoonin'  and  kiddin'  affair  ; 
and  you  might  jest  as  well  know  it  first  as  last. 
Some  men  'ud  tell  you  you're  a  rose,  on'y  jest  to 
be  touched  and  kissed  ;  but  I'd  sooner  handle  a 


1 66  LOW    SOCIETY 

good  vegetable  myself,  any  day.  And  there  you 
are.** 

It  was  not  flattering  on  the  surface.  Neverthe- 
less it  had  a  noticeable  effect.  Selina  subsided  by 
degrees,  and  soon  was  leaning  quite  languidly  and 
contentedly  again.  One  chance  word  of  his,  in 
fact,  had  seemed  to  pave  the  way  for  an  under- 
standing which,  it  had  been  decided  in  George's 
absence,  ought  by  now  to  be  well  in  sight. 

"  Well,  yes,"  she  owned,  presently,  her  head 
drooped,  **  I  don't  say  but  what  it  must  come  to  a 
business  arrangement  in  the  long  run — perhaps 
before.  I  didn't  tell  you,  did  I? — Father's  think- 
ing of  giving  up  his  own,  and  retiring  somewhere. 
It  might  be  at  any  minute  now.*' 

**  Oh  I  "  said  George,  genuinely  surprised. 
"  There's  a  good  many  minnits  to  come,  ain't 
there?     What's  he  goin'  to  live  on?  " 

"  On  his  money,  of  course,"  Selina  replied, 
bridling.  **  The  same  as  we  should  do  some  day, 
I  suppose — at  least,  I  hope." 

-*  H'm  I  Well,  I  must  say  I  can^t  see  him  doin* 
anythin'  o'  the  kind — not  in  my  mind,  at  any  rate." 

**  Make  me  out  a  liar,"  she  whispered.  ''  There 
are  a  lot  of  things  your  mind  can't  see,  perhaps." 

"  Includin'  what?"  asked  George,  taking  off 
his  bowler  hat  and  looking  inside  it,  as  if  he  could 
see  something  in  that. 

"  Never  mind.  He's  thinking  of  doing  so,  in 
three  rooms  somewhere  ;  that's  all  I  heard. 
Whether  he  thinks  I'm  going  out  as  a  lady's  maid 
— and  whether  he  thinks  of  selling  the  shop  or  just 
leaving  it  as  it  is — I  don't  pretend  to  know." 

**  No,"  said  George,  with  encouragement  ;  '*  and 


LOW    SOCIETY  167 

ril  lay  odds  of  ninepence  to  a  stick  o'  rhubub  he 
don't  pretend  to  know  hisself ." 

She  looked  away,  her  underlip  submitting  to 
another  bite.  But  George  had  unwittingly  left 
her  another  narrow  opening. 

"  It's  the  first  time  I  knew  you  betted,"  she  re- 
marked, coldly. 

"  Go  on  !  "  George  said,  so  quietly  derisive  that 
she  jumped  to  the  objective  instead  of  feeling  her 
way. 

•*  Well,  what  do  you  do  with  all  your  money?  " 
she  demanded. 

"Do  with  my  money?  Don't  I  have  to  live, 
and  buy  clothes — and  other  things?  " 

"  That's  not  what  I  meant.  Do  be  serious  for 
once,  now  we're  together.  You've  got  other 
money,  that  you  don't  have  to  live  upon,  or  that 
you're  not  supposed  to  be  frittering — as  very  likely 
you  are,  for  what  we  know,"  she  added,  drawing 
the  softest  quivering  breath. 

**  Well,  I'm "     Baversham  drew  himself  up 

just  in  time,  and  whistled  instead.  "  I  dunno 
whether  you  know  it,  but  we've  run  right  into  a 
fog,"  he  said. 

This  was  true.  A  mere  half  hour  ago,  in  the 
sky  ahead  had  lain  a  broad  wing  of  dull  gold 
tipped  with  crimson,  and  the  expanse  of  flat  grass- 
land with  its  reed  -  fringed  ditch  -  banks,  stray 
barges  and  waterways,  and  air  of  stagnant  soli- 
tude— as  typical  of  this  part  of  Essex  by  London 
as  it  is  of  Dutch  landscape — had  been  visible 
for  miles  around.  Now  all  was  obliterated  by  a 
shroud  of  vapour.  The  change  was  one  to  disturb 
a  girl  in  Selina's  position.     But  3elina  declined 


1 68  LOW    SOCIETY 

to  evince  even  annoyance,  and  moved  recklessly 
onwards. 

**  For  one  thing/'  she  said,  as  George  lit 
another  cigarette,  "  you're  spending  a  lot  lately 
on  tobacco." 

*'  Threepenny  packet  a  day,"  he  admitted,-; 
lightly. 

"  That's — that's  one -and -six  a  week,"  she  cried, 
luckily  forgetting  Sundays  in  her  determina- 
tion to  nail  him  down  to  something  definite. 
**  What  else?  I  want  to  know  —  I'm  going 
to  know." 

**  What  else  ?  "  He  started  to  tick  off  the  items 
on  his  fingers.  **  Food,  clothes,  baths,  cards, 
clubs,  theatres,  women,  wine " 

Selina  turned  and  knocked  off  his  hat.  "  Take 
that,"  she  said  ;  '*  and  just  be  careful  what  you're 
saying.     You — a  man  of  the  world — bah  1  " 

"Well,  you  asked  for  it,  didn't  you?"  Un- 
abashed, he  picked  up  the  hat.  "  Some  men  'ud 
tell  you  you're  pryin'  into  private  affairs  that  don't 
concern  you — yet."  And  Selina  came  to  a  pause, 
drawn  back. 

**  Oh,  am  I?"  she  asked.  "That's  news.  I 
thought,  when  a  young  man  took  a  girl  out  and 
gave  her  a  ring,  he  meant  that  his  private  affairs 
were  to  be  hers.  Perhaps  I'm  wrong.  Perhaps 
you  never  thought  of  really  marrying,  and  are  only 
laughing  at  us  all  and  amusing  your  spare  time. 
Perhaps,"  she  ran  breathlessly  on,  unable  to  pick 
and  choose  phrases  in  that  suppressed  tremble, 
**  perhaps  you  have  no  money  other  than  what  you 
stand  up  in?     In  that  case " 

"  Yes,  what  about  it  ?  "  he  said,  eyeing  her  with 


LOW    SOCIETY  169 

an  attempt  at  indifference  in  the  pause.  "  Td  like 
to  hear." 

'*  Then — you  shan't."  She  set  her  teeth  with  a 
snap. 

*'  I  see,"  he  answered  slowly.  **  Perhaps  I  shall 
yet." 

There  was  a  long  silence,  while  George  puffed 
at  his  small  white  tube  as  if  quite  willing  that  a 
crisis  should  occur  here  and  now  ;  and  Selina  stood 
with  tightly-clenched  hands,  staring  down  at  the 
ground.     At  last  George  said,  very  quietly  : 

•'  Selina  1  " 

She  looked  up,  with  blank  eyes.  **  I'm  going 
home,"  she  gasped.      "Where  are  we?" 

Baversham  glanced  around. 

**  Heaven  knows,"  he  said  ;  "I  don't.  It  all 
looks  one  now,  don't  it?  " 

"  Take  me  home,"  choked  Selina,  stamping* 
her  foot.  "  You  brought  me  here,  now  take  me 
out  of  it." 

For  once  Baversham,  although  he  screwed  up 
his  eyes  a  little  oddly,  allowed  feminine  incon- 
sistency to  have  its  way.  In  point  of  fact,  he 
knew  less  about  this  particular  locality  than  did 
Selina. 

**  Home  it  is,"  he  said,  pacifically.  **  But  I 
don't  say  when  you'll  get  there,  or  where  we  shall 
come  out.  I  ain't  goin'  back  along  that  narrer 
path  ;  we'd  never  do  it.  I'm  goin'  to  keep  round 
to  the  left  here,  and  we  ought  to  come  back  into 
the  tram-road  somewhere.     Hold  my  arm." 

She  did.  In  fact,  she  leaned  heavily  upon  him, 
with  unnerving  little  sobs.  "  Oh,  George,  you've 
been  extra  cruel  to-night,"  she  said. 


I70  LOW    SOCIETY 

'*  No,  I  ain't,"  he  replied,  not  unkindly.  *-  But 
I'm  quick,  if  slow  ;  and  now  and  again  lately  I've 
been  made  to  fancy — there,  let  it  drop  for  now. 
You'll  have  to  hold  up  a  bit,  dear  ;  I'm  half  over 
the  edge  o'  this  canal,  or  whatever  it  is  ;  and  it 
looks  bloomin'  black  and  deep." 

"  You  can  leave  me  and  go  on,  if  I  hamper 
you,"  she  wailed.  She  had  dropped  the  handker- 
chief somewhere,  and  had  nothing  to  vent  her 
emotions  upon.  **  I  don't  care  where  I'm  found, 
or  how   I'm  found — no  !  " 

"  Rot,"  said  Baversham,  simply.  He  came  to 
another  pause,  to  try  and  see  through  the  fog,  and 
then  drew  her  on  again. -^  *'  I've  forgotten  which 
way  the  blessed  left  did  lay  now,"  he  ad- 
mitted. **  We're  all  right  if  it  comes  on  pitch 
dark  as  well,  and  you  with  them  Sunday 
clothes  on.  Why  wouldn't  your  Saturday  ones 
do?" 

**  Because — because,"  she  sobbed,  *- 1  thought 
you  liked  to  be  proud  of  me,  when  you  did  take 
me  out.     And  this  is  the  end  of  it  1  " 

"  The  end  mostly  comes  of  the  beginning," 
George  quietly  reminded  her,  with  more  wisdom 
than  he  knew.  **  Hold  up  I — we're  walkin'  in 
water — right  in  I  " 

They  retraced  their  steps  a  little  way.  The 
place  was  a  spongy  labyrinth  of  pitfalls,  with  only 
a  negotiable  path  here  and  there  at  this  season. 
There  was  some  visible  sweat  on  George's  fore- 
head as  they  halted  again.  Selina  took  his  hand- 
kerchief and  wiped  the  forehead. 

*'  I  do  love  you,  and  you  know  it,"  she  cried, 
softly  ;    **  only,    you're    so    silly    and    headstrong 


LOW    SOCIETY  171 

and  suspicious.  Put  your  arms  round  my  neck, 
as  any  other  man  would  do  ;  and  then  I  shan't 
mind  whether  I  ever  get  home  or  not." 

*'  You  mean  it?  " 

**  Do  I  mean  it  ?  "  She  drew  him  to  her  crush- 
ingly.  **  I  only  want  you  to  be  happy  and  kind 
— you  know  it." 

"  That's  all  very  well,"  George  said,  getting  his 
breath.  **  You  do,  but  I'm  not  so  sure  about 
others  ;  and  I'd  like  to  be  ...  .  Don't  be  silly, 
and  lose  your  head,  now,  and  blame  it  on  to  me  I  " 
He  kissed  her,  and  put  her  gently  away.  It  wasi 
true  that,  compared  with  many  of  his  sex,  he 
might  have  been  termed  a  cold-blooded  affair. 
*'  We've  got  to  move,  and  no  mistake — it's  comin* 
dark.  Vm  goin'  to  get  home,  somehow  or  other. 
Let's  step  it  out,  and  chance  it." 

It  was  an  heroic  proposal  in  the  circumstances, 
but  Selina  obviously  cared  nothing  just  now 
whether  it  ended  in  the  river  itself.  They  stepped 
out  at  random  ;  and  by  so  doing  they  were  vouch- 
safed precisely  the  curious  good  fortune  which' 
attends  the  drunken  man  in  a  line  of  traffic.  Over 
and  over  again  George  shot  back  from  a  treacher- 
ous gully  of  ooze  just  in  time  ;  and  over  and  over 
again  Selina  tripped  as  without  caring  over  some 
obstacle,  with  only  a  little  more  damage  each  time 
to  her  Sunday  outfit.  It  was  George,  and  not 
she,  who  really  grasped  that  something  in  the 
form  of  a  miracle  had  happened  when  at  length, 
holding  her  to  a  standstill,  he  made  out  in  the 
sodden  silence  the  muffled  clang-clang  of  a  distant 
electric -car  bell. 

"There,"   he   said.      "Now  you   ought   to   be 


172  LOW    SOCIETY 

grateful    that    I    didn't    have    to    explain    keepin* 
you  out  all  night.     And  you're  not." 

Selina  said  nothing.  Possibly  she  thought  the 
more.  Her  oneness  with  George,  despite  the 
tragic  hour  on  the  marshes  which  should  have 
cemented  and  made  it  sacredly  binding  upon  both, 
was  as  much  in  the  air  as  ever. 

"  I  seem  to  know  this,"  George  said.  **  Yes, 
it  is — we've  come  out  jest  where  I  thought  we 
might  at  first.  It's  Casswade's  estate,  'pon  my 
word." 

**  I  don't  care  who  or  what  it  is,"  Selina  replied, 
lifelessly. 

*'  Half  a  minute,  though."  George  halted.  **  I 
think  we're  goin'  the  wrong  way — away  from  the 
tram-road  into  Barkin',  I  mean.  How  do  the 
house-numbers  go?  —  Can  you  see  anythin'  of 
Casswade's  box?  " 

"  Curse  Casswade,"  Selina  said,  with  a  rare  and 
inexplicable  burst  of  feeling  that  heralded  hysteria. 
And  George  actually  laughed. 

**  Well,  I  don't  mind  your  doing  that  for 
once,"  he  said.  *'  I've  done  it  myself.  But  all 
the  same,  where  are  we  ?  " 

Straining  forward,  he  ran  into  someone  heavily. 
It  was  another  man.  Both  drew  back  ;  and  then 
Baversham,  in  real  relief,  shot  out  his  hand. 

*'  Well,  I  never — that  beats  all  !  Excuse  me, 
won't  you  ?  Thought  our  last  hour  had  come,  me 
and  my  young  lady  here.  We  got  caught  in  the 
fog  comin'  across  the  marshes.  Look  at  us — 
that  '11  prove  it  1  " 


CHAPTER    XV 

The  hand  was  taken  and  gripped.  It  was  Jim 
Hungerford,  just  entering  the  gateway  at  Number 
Nine.  He  looked  from  one  to  the  other  in  his 
quiet,  concerned  way,  and  lifted  his  hat  to  Selina. 
Before  he  could  answer  verbally,  the  door  beyond 
opened  and  let  out  a  flood  of  light.  It  framed 
Ella,  who  had  heard  the  voice  and  perhaps  sus- 
pected a  footpad. 

"What  is  it,  Jim?  "  Ella  enquired,  anxiously. 
Catching  sight  of  a  woman's  still  figure,  she  ran 
forward.  "  Oh,  it's  you  I  "  They  had  passed 
Baversham  and  his  young  woman  two  or  three 
times  in  Barking  streets  since  that  first  chance 
meeting,  and  never  forgotten  to  nod  and  smile. 
**  Oh,  I  see  I  "  she  whispered,  as  Hungerford  said 
something  quietly  to  her  alone.  She  turned  at 
once  to  Selina,  who  was  far  removed  from  giggling 
enigmatically  at   the  pavement   on  this   occasion. 

*•  My  dear,  you  look  quite  ill  and — and "    She 

did  not  care  to  finish.  Selina's  skirts,  originally 
light  -  hued,  conveyed  a  wealth  of  meaning  to 
another  woman's  eyes. 

"  That's  how  I've  got  to  take  her  home,"  Baver- 
sham laughed,  not  too  comfortable  himself. 

Ella  looked  at  her  Hungerford.  He  looked 
back  at  her.  These  two  seldom  needed  to  speak, 
to  grasp  a  situation  and  interpret  a  mutual 
impulse . 


174  LOW    SOCIETY 

Without  a  word,  Ella  took  Selina  firmly  by  the 
arm.  Selina  resisted,  then  gave  way  with  a  choke, 
and  allowed  herself  to  be  drawn  through  and 
into  a  warm,  beautiful  kitchen. 

**  You  might  have  wiped  your  boots,"  Baver- 
sham  felt  bound  to  remark.  But  luckily  Selina 
did  not  hear  this  ;  or  the  wild -cat  that  is  thought 
to  lie  dormant  in  every  woman  might  have  leaped 
out  at  him. 

"  Certainly,  come  along  in,"  Hungerford  said 
to  him  in  turn.  The  fact  that  he  rather  liked 
young  Baversham  for  his  frank  naturalness  had 
nothing  to  do  with  it.  And  the  door  closed  behind 
them.  "  Feel  quite  at  home  here,  for  as  long  as 
you  choose."  And  he  led  the  way  into  the  little 
rear  parlour — no,  dining-room.  This  was  tactful, 
as  all  sorts  of  queer,  muffled  sounds  were  coming 
now  from  the  kitchen. 

**  Rum  lot,  women,"  Baversham  said  apologe- 
tically, as  he  sat  down  and  looked  around.  "  Still, 
I'm  goin'  to  say  I  reckon  this  very  kind  and  un- 
expected of  you,  Mr.  Hungerford.     I  do  I  " 

Hungerford  smiled.  He  had  white  teeth,  very 
dark  eyes,  and  a  peculiarly  sunny  smile  that  Baver- 
sham had  not  forgotten.  *'  So  you  know  my 
name,"  he  said.  And  Baversham  flushed  ever  so 
slightly. 

**  Ah,  yes,  funny  how  I  knew  that  1  Oh,  I  know 
— I  happened  to  overhear  it  when — er — when  I 
heard  you  were  takin'  one  o'  Casswade's  houses," 
he  explained. 

**  I  see.  By  the  way,  weren't  you  thinking  of 
taking  one  of  them  yourself?" 

"Well,    yes,    I   was,"    George    owned.      "But 


LOW    SOCIETY  175 

I'm  a  devil  for  not  bein'  able  to  make  up  my  own 
mind,  if  you  understand  me.  And  that's  why,  I 
fancy,"  he  tacked  on  quickly,  with  a  touch  of 
cunning,  **  Mr.  Cass  wade  and  I  haven't  exactly 
*  hit  it  '  together  lately — as  you  had  to  notice,  I 
believe." 

**  That  Saturday  evening?  Well,  to  tell  you  the 
truth  " — he  smiled  again — **  I  took  no  notice  / 
He's  a  quaint  old  fellow,  but  good  at  heart  and 
well-meaning,  from  all  I  have  seen  of  him." 

"  Oh,  quite  so,"  said  Baversham.  "  See  much 
of  him,  do  you?  "  he  added,  with  the  airy  indiffer- 
ence that,  secretly,  much  amused  the  other 
man. 

'*  Well,  no,"  Hungerford  remembered.  **  I 
don't  think  I  have  spoken  with  him  for  some 
weeks.  And  that  must  remind  me  again  :  I  don't 
know  what  he  thinks,  but  I  made  him  promise  a 
long  time  ago  that  he  and  Mrs.  Casswade  would 
come  in  to  us  for  an  hour  some  evening.  I've 
never  referred  to  it  since." 

**  Forgotten  it,  I  expect,"  Baversham  said,  after 
a  pause,  during  which  he  had  sat  with  a  fixed, 
puzzled  stare  on  his  freckly  face. 

Hungerford  suddenly  sprang  up  and  produced 
refreshment.  The  sounds  from  the  kitchen  had 
abated  considerably.  '*  Little  doubt,"  he  saidy 
"  they  are  comforting  themselves  with  tea  in 
there  ;  so,  why  shouldn't  we  two  men  have  some- 
thing?" 

"Why,  indeed?"  repeated  Baversham, 
pointedly.  It  was  not  intentional,  but  due  to  deep 
mental  abstraction.  He  recollected  himself. 
"  Thanks  ! — here's  my  very  best  respects  for  all 


176  LOW    SOCIETY 

time  !  Blowed  if  I  ain't  fairly  ashamed  o'  my 
young  woman/'  he  said,  "  carryin'  on  like  this 
over  a  mere  nothin'.     I  shall  tell  her  so." 

"You  won't,"  said  Hungerford,  filling  his  pipe 
and  handing  the  pouch  across.  '*  To  judge  by 
her  appearance,  if  I  may  say  so,  it  was  quite  easily 
understood.     She's  a  woman,  you  know." 

**  Well,  yes,  she  is,**  he  admitted.  -Other- 
wise, I  shouldn't  be  out  with  her,  should  I  ?  It 
wasn't  any  too  tasty,  I  own .  She  went  down  about 
four  times,  I  reckon.  That's  what  really  upset 
her,  I  expect — muckin'  her  clothes  to  that  extent. 
I've  got  my  doubts  whether  they'll  wash. 
Although  they  do  say,"  he  pursued,  still  partially 
abstracted,  **  that  if  you  really  want  to  know 
whether  a  woman's  worth  havin',  you  can't  do 
better  than  tread  on  her  dress  as  by  accident." 

*'  Well  "  —  the  smoke  half  hid  the  smile 
twitching  over  Hungerford's  face  again — *'  that 
is  a  useful  test,  I  believe.  But  you  would  hardly 
choose  a  misty  marsh  for  the  purpose.  And 
again,  there's  the  chance  she  may  guess  it  was 
no  accident,  eh?  " 

"Ever  try  it?'-  blurted  Baversham,  feeling 
drawn  in  this  atmosphere  to  deepest  confidence. 

**  No,"  the  other  said,  taken  aback.  "  I  can't 
say  I  thought  of  it." 

**  Good  reason  :  it  wasn't  necessary."  Baver- 
sham looked  down  at  the  cigarette  he  held.  He 
looked  down  so  long  that  Hungerford  reached  out 
his  hand. 

**  Cheer  up,"  Hungerford  whispered,  his  fingers 
tingling  after  the  squeeze.  "  You'll  be  happy 
enough,  when  the  time  comes." 


LOW    SOCIETY  177 

**  When  it  comes  1  *'  Baversham  threw  away 
the  cigarette,  and  dug  his  chin  mcMDdily  into  his 
propped  hands.  **  I  don't  mind  tellin'  you,  Mr. 
Hungerford,  if  no  one  else,  that's  the  nasty  part 
of  it.  I  can't  see  it  comin'.  In  my  opinion,  it 
never  will.     No,  I  refuse  to  see  it  comin'  !  " 

"  That's  bad,"  Hungerford  said,  with  a  startled 
side-glance  at  the  door. 

"Bad?  It's  rotten.  But  there  you  are — what 
are  you  goin'  to  do  if  there's  no  gettin*  away  from 
it?" 

Hungerford  could  think  of  no  appropriate  reply. 
He  had  never  contemplated  himself  in  such  a 
position  as  was  briefly  outlined. 

'*  But  surely,"  he  ventured,  as  Baversham 
shifted  his  position  with  an  unmistakable  sigh 
from  the  heart,  "  surely  Miss " 

'*  Shadd,"  he  supplied,  gloomily. 

**  — Miss  Shadd  understands  that  the  very  fact 
of  your  walking  out  with  her  means  marriage 
eventually,  if  it  means  anything  at  all." 

"  Not  half  she  doesn't.  She  understands  all 
about  that,  believe  me  I  " 

**  Well,  then,  if  you  have  talked  it  over  to- 
gether  " 

"Talked  it  over?"  Baversham  sat  up,  carried 
past  himself.  "  Why,  we've  done  nothin'  else 
from  the  minnit  I  knew  her.  Why,  we  were 
lookin'  at  furniture  shops  and  brass  bedsteads 
about  the  third  day.  It  didn't  want  any  talkin* 
over.  She's  not  that  sort  ;  although  I'll  give  her 
her  due — she's  lovin'  enough — a  bit  too  lovin', 
if  anythin'.     She'd  have  me  to-morrow.'' 

**  H'm  I  "  Hungerford  said,  genuinely  struck  by 

L.s.  N 


178  LOW    SOCIETY 

this  candour.      **  Then  perhaps   I'd  better  say  no 
more.** 

He  was  thinking  of  the  thin  dividing  wall.  But 
Baversham  had  been  stirred. 

**  To-morrow,"  he  repeated  bitterly,  nursing  his 
knee.     "  And,  come  to  that,  I'd  have  her." 

**  H'm  1  "  was  all  Hungerford  could  remark 
again.     George  reached  out  for  his  glass. 

**  No,  you  don't  know,  Mr.  Hungerford,  what 
I  mean,"  he  said.  "  And  I  know  you're  not  one 
to  ask  ;  and  it  isn't  right  I  should  talk  of  it 
behind  her  back,  and  I'm  not  goin'  to  for  anyone. 
I  don't  say  one  word  against  her — to  tell  you  the 
truth,  I'm  fonder  of  her  than  she  thinks — and 
yet  there  it  is.  At  times  I  feel  as  if  I  could  say  : 
*  Give  us  that  ring  back — off  you  go,  about  your 
bis'ness.'  I  do  !  Excuse  me  bein'  worked  up, 
but  I  can't  help  it.  P'r'aps  I  feel  like  her — a  bit 
hysterical." 

"  It  must  be  so,"  said  Hungerford.  His  pipe 
had  almost  gone  out.  "  All  the  same,  I'm  sorry 
to  hear  a  man  talking  like  that  ;  and  I  hope  you'll 
never  have  to  do  anything  of  the  sort." 

"  Ah  !  "  sighed  George,  significantly.  "  Look 
at  the  wife  you've  got.  And  if  her  people — her 
relations — are  anything  like  her,  well,  I  say  no 
more.     It's  rude  o'  me." 

Hungerford  seemed  glad.  He  had  bent  hastily 
forward  to  tap  the  ashes  from  his  pipe.  Then  he 
got  up,  to  listen. 

**  I  fancy  they  have  gone  upstairs,"  he  said,  to 
turn  the  topic.  "  Yes,  they  have.  Would  you — 
would  you  like  a  wash?  " 

"  Thanks,    I   would,  but   I   don't   feel   like   it," 


LOW    SOCIETY  179 

George  replied,  moody  still.  "  It's  enough  to 
think  of  her  cartin'  all  them  muddy  flounces  up 
Mrs.  Hungerford's  staircase,  and  puttin'  you  to  all 
this  trouble  when  we  could  have  taken  a  ha'penny 
car  from  the  bottom — on  top,  if  she  didn't  feel 
like  the  inside." 

**  That's  nonsense,"  Hungerford  told  him  again, 
with  warmth.  "  You  can  call  and  see  us  for  a 
chat  whenever  you  are  up  this  way.  We  are 
generally  at  home — and  generally  alone." 

"  Ah  I  "  Baversham  was  touched  afresh  on  the 
tender  spot.  **  There  you  are  again — jest  what 
my  idea  of  a  home  was — our  two  selves.  But 
don't  you  reckon  I  should  ever  have  it.  Selina 
'ud  want  all  her  people  round  about  twice  a  week, 
and  that  'ud  mean  a  pianner,  of  course,  and  then 
music,  and  then  somethin'  extra  to  wash  down  the 
victuals,  and  so  on." 

**  Many  in  family?  "  Hungerford  enquired,  in- 
terested. 

"Well,  no,  only  three — at  present.  It  isn't 
that,  exactly.  She's  been  brought  up  to  think 
herself  someone,  and  that  means  parties  every 
birthday  and  Bank  Holiday,  and  all  the  rest  of  it. 
I've  counted  twelve  in  that  back  parlour  o'  theirs 
before  now.  But  I  could  stand  anythin',  so  long 
as  he  wasn't  invited.     If  he  was — my  word  1  " 

**  Ah,"  said  Hungerford,  wondering  why  he  had 
only  just  suspected  consuming  jealousy.  *'  I  see. 
I'm  sorry." 

He  meant  it.  But,  either  on  a  point  of  honour, 
or  from  motives  of  policy,  Baversham  brought 
that  subject  to  a  dead  stop.  They  chatted  on  a 
little  longer — of  Barking  sights,  of  Casswade,  the 

N    2 


i8o  LOW    SOCIETY 

new  houses,  the  garden,  and  things  in  general  ; 
and  then  steps  were  heard  on  the  stairs .  Somehow 
or,  other,  as  he  rose,  it  seemed  to  Hungerford  that 
he  had  known  young  Baversham  all  his  life. 

Baversham  got  up,  shook  himself,  and  stood 
stiffly  at  attention.  The  door  opened  ;  Ella  came 
in,  smiling,  and  with  a  bright  spot  in  each  cheek. 
Selina  behind,  on  the  other  hand,  had  a  chastened, 
pale  appearance  that  augured  only  temporary  re- 
signation to  circumstances.  As  George  looked 
her  up  and  down,  to  see  what  had  been  done  in 
such  a  prolonged  interval,  she  bit  her  lip,  half 
turned,  and  looked  steadily  at  the  floor. 

**  Well,"  said  George,  frankly,  **  I  should  hardly 
have  known  it  was  you.  It  isn't  every  day  we 
shall  find  a  Mrs.  Hungerford  ready  with  a  cloak 
to  cover  up  our  dirty  flounces,  and  that's  a  fact."- 

"  Oh,  they're  there,  underneath,"  whispered 
Selina.     "  Don't  fear  !  " 

**  What,  are  you  blamin'  it  on  to  me,  now?  " 

**  Oh,  no  !  I'm  only  wondering  what  you'd  say 
and  how  you'd  look  if  you'd  had  to  pay  for  them — 
that's  all."  And  George  drew  a  deep  breath  and 
blew  upon  his  hat. 

*•  I  think  we'll  get  on  home,"  he  said.  "  No, 
Mr.  Hungerford,  you're  not  comin'  any  o'  the  way 
with  us — not  a  step,  if  I  know  it." 

**  But  I  have  to  —  on  an  errand."  Ella 
had  given  him  a  look,  and  he  was  drawing  on  his 
overcoat  again.  "  Come  along  !  Put  up  the  door- 
chain,  dear,  till  I  tap  at  the  glass." 

Ella  pressed  Selina's  hand,  and  they  stepped  out 
into  the  raw  fog.  Presently,  as  Baversham  went 
to  hook  Selina's  arm,  he  felt  her  shiver. 


LOW    SOCIETY  l8i 

"  There  you  are,  youVe  been  and  taken  a  chill 
now,"  he  said,  with  annoyance.  '*  Funny  lot,  you 
women.  Do  you  mind  if  we  step  it  out,  Mr.  Hun- 
gerford,  'stead  o'  ridin' ?  ** 

"  I  prefer  it,"  said  Hungerford.  And  out  they 
stepped,  Baversham  mincing  no  inches. 

Close  upon  the  flare  and  noise  that,  gauged 
through  the  fog,  lent  a  Dantesque  suggestion, 
another  long  shiver  escaped  Selina. 

"  Well,  I'm  blowed,"  said  George.  He  drew 
up.  They  happened  to  be  passing  a  public -house. 
"Mr.  Hungerford,  d'you  mind  if  I  give  her  a  drop 
o*  peppermint  hot?  In  fact,  will  you  do  us  the 
pleasure  o'  comin'  in,  too — for  once?  " 

**  Certainly,"  smiled  Hungerford.  He  believed 
that  Selina  had  been  on  the  point  of  gasping  **  I 
don't  want  any  of  your  peppermint  I  "  ;  and  he 
knew  that  Baversham  itched  to  be  hospitable  in 
his  turn. 

They  went  in.  It  was  the  saloon  bar.  George 
had  just  tapped  the  counter  with  his  money  when, 
as  from  a  megaphone  only  an  inch  or  two  away, 
above  the  drone  sounded  a  heavy,  rolling  voice. 

"  I  don't  care  what  you  prove,  you  haven't 
proved  nothin'.  I  put  my  money  into  bricks  and 
mortar.  I  maintain  that  if  a  man  can't  get  on  in 
this  world  without  help,  it's  his  own  bloomin' 
fault,  and  I'd  chloroform  him.     I'd " 

It  was  Mr.  Casswade's  delivery.  The  back  of 
Mr.  Casswade's  head  was  visible  through  the  glass 
partition.  Selina  gave  a  sudden  perilous  titter  ; 
George  snatched  up  his  money  and  grabbed  at  her 
arm.  Perfectly  mystified,  Hungerford  followed 
them  out  into  the  street. 


1 82  LOW    SOCIETY 

"  It's  all  right,"  Baversham  explained  to  him,  in 
a  furtive  whisper.  *'  She  jibbed.  She  shan't  have 
it  at  all  now,  for  her  obstinacy  and  carryin*  on. 
Some  other  time,  Mr.  Hungerford,  when  we  can 
have  a  talk  and  enjoy  it  !  For  the  time  bein' — 
goodnight  1  " 

**  What  do  you  make  of  it?  "  Hungerford  asked 
of  his  Ella,  hours  later,  as  they  lay  ready  for  sleep. 

**  Well,  really,"  she  said,  thoughtfully,  "  I  don't 
want  to  think  it — and  of  course  it  can't  be  so  ; 
but  it  seemed  to  me  as  if — as  if  she  were  a  little 
strange  in  her  mind,  and  he  is  too  loyal  and 
generous  to  give  her  up  merely  on  that  account. 
Mustn't  it  be  dreadful,  dear?  " 

'*  It  must  be,"  agreed  Hungerford,  impressed  in 
spite  of  his  own  private  theories. 

There  was  silence.  His  eyes  had  closed.  Then 
suddenly  Ella's  head  turned  upon  the  pillow. 

**  There,  it  has  just  come  to  me.  I've  wondered 
over  and  over  and  over  again.  How  foolish  !  His 
name  must  be  Joshua — of  course  I 

*'  Who?  "  he  asked,  startled. 

**  Why,  the  foreman  here.  The  man  Mr.  Cass- 
wade  calls  *  Josh  M  " 

'*  Good  gracious."  His  silent  laughter  shook 
the  bed  a  moment.  "  Get  to  sleep,  dear.  Good- 
night," he  said. 

"  Goodnight,  Boy  !  "  She  nestled  close,  ever  a 
little  sad  in  her  happiness.  "  Goodnight  1  It's 
wrong,  I  know  ;  but  the  more  I  see  of  other  men 
and  women,  the  more  I  love  my  own  Jim  I  '' 


CHAPTER    XVI 

Sunday,  as  far  as  Selina  Shadd  and  her  young 
man  were  concerned,  proved  a  blank.  Selina, 
her  best  out-of-doors  dress  unwearable,  spent  the 
greater  part  of  the  day  in  her  bedroom,  spasms  of 
tears  alternating  with  spells  of  cold  disdain  in 
which  she  dashed  ofif  various  rough  drafts  of  a 
Note  intended  to  convey  to  Baversham  that,  if  she 
married  at  all,  she  had  decided  to  marry  a  man, 
and  not  a  pinchbeck  imitation  of  one.  Each  was 
destroyed  as  soon  as  written,  either  because  the 
penmanship  was  not  sufficiently  indicative  of  icy 
indifference,  or  because  the  writer  pictured 
Baversham  as  being  consumed  with  laughter  in- 
stead of  tears  when  he  received  it. 

Downstairs,  after  evening-church  time,  the  out- 
look was  discussed  with  bated  warmth  by  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Shadd.  Mr.  Shadd  declared  that,  love 
or  no  love,  Selina  had  played  her  cards  like  a 
born  fool,  and  thereby  thrown  away  a  solid  four 
hundred  —  possibly  five  hundred  —  pounds  which 
might  have  been  turned  into  as  many  thousands 
for  her  children.  Mrs.  Shadd  answered  that  she 
had  consistently  adhered  to  a  secret  aversion  to 
the  man,  and  now  positively  hated  the  sound  of 
his  name,  and  thought  seriously  of  sending  him  in 
a  bill  for  a  best  dress  racked  and  sluthered  out  of 
all  recognition.     Both  forgot  that  they  had  just 


1 84  LOW    SOCIETY 

been  to  Divine  Service  and  prayed  as  fervently  as 
any  there  to  be  delivered  from  the  Father  of  all 
Lies. 

Monday  came  ;  and  with  it  a  decided  change  of 
opinion.     Baversham  called  as  though  nothing  at 
all  had  happened,  kissed  Selina,  kissed  her  mother, 
and   shook   hands   twice   with    Mr.    Shadd.      Ten 
minutes  later  it  was  settled  that  there  had  been 
some  absurd  mistake,  and  that  nothing  more  had 
better  be  said  about  the  damaged  skirts — which, 
unlike  an  honest  man's  affection,  could  be  easily 
replaced.      When,    at  Selina's    casual    suggestion 
that  perhaps  he  fancied  the  usual  walk,   George 
replied  that  it  suited  him  just  as  well  to  sit  with 
her  in  the  back  parlour — the  small  one  next  to  the 
washhouse — the  misty  marsh  seemed  to  fade  quite 
into  a  background.     George  even  turned  down  the 
gas  there — to  save  so  much  waste  on  his  account, 
as  he  said.      For  a  moment   Selina  thought  that 
he  meant  to  take  her  on  his  knee  and  be  tender  ; 
but  perhaps  that  was  too  much  to  expect  of  Baver- 
sham.    Failing  this,  they  went  through  the  post- 
card   album    three    times    carefully,    and    Selina 
pointed  out  which  of  the  coloured  views  struck  her 
as  the  most  appropriate  setting  for  a  honeymoon, 
and  felt  almost  dreamy. 

'*  I  wish  you  were  like  other  men,  and  could 
come  every  night,"  she  said,  at  the  door. 

"  Overtime,"  said  George,  briefly.  "It's  a 
curse,  but  it's  better  than  bein'  out  o'  work.  How- 
ever, I'll  think  about  it." 

He  did.  For  the  next  two  nights  he  put  in  a 
dutiful,  most  lover -like  appearance.  He  even 
stood  at  the  shop -doorway  and  evinced  an  interest 


LOW    SOCIETY  185 

in  watching  Mr.  Shadd  weigh  and  tie  up  the  pur- 
chases, and  seemed  particularly  struck  by  the 
hahing  "  S— s— s— "  and  "  F— f— f— "  which 
paved  the  way  whenever  possible  to  an  extra  far- 
thing or  halfpenny — according  to  the  nature  of  the 
purchase  and  the  look  of  the  customer.  Mrs. 
Shadd  said  there  was  no  earthly  reason  why  they 
should  not  take  larger  premises  in  the  High  Street, 
allow  Baversham  entire  control,  and  share  the 
profits  weekly. 

"  Why,  bless  me,  Selina's  a  clever  girl,"  said 
Mr.  Shadd,  when  alone  with  his  wife.  "  And  the 
fellow's  as  right  as  ninepence." 

"  I  always  told  you  so,  only  you  wouldn't  be- 
lieve it,"  replied  Mrs.  Shadd,  folding  her  hands 
and  nodding.     "  In  future  I'll  say  nothing." 

Thursday  came.  At  ten  minutes  to  eight,  p.m., 
Baversham,  on  his  way  yet  again,  found  Selina 
awaiting  him  on  the  kerb  a  little  way  from  Tamp- 
lin  Street.  George  hated  to  be  kissed  in  the  open 
street,  even  after  dark  ;  so  Selina  had  to  fall  back 
on  a  little  titter  of  pleasure. 

'*  Here  you  are,  then  !  My  ear  burned  so,  I 
knew  you  couldn't  be  far  off.  Yes,  I  thought  I'd 
meet  you,  because  Mr.  Casswade's  coming  to- 
night." 

'*  Oh,  is  he  ?  "  George  appeared  to  freeze.  "I'm 
not  comin',  then." 

•*  That's  what  I  thought."  She  did  not  add  that 
her  father  had  thrown  out  a  cautious  hint  on  the 
point,  too.  **  So  we  can  go  for  a  stroll,  can't  we  ?  " 
George  cogitated.  He  did  not  seem  disposed 
to  fall  in  with  any  proposition  of  hers  whatever. 
He  stood  quite  a  time,  staring. 


1 86  LOW    SOCIETY 

**  What  time's  he  comin'  ?  '*  he  demanded  at 
len^h. 

"  About  now,  I  think.  He  sent  a  boy  over  with 
a  note  to  say  so,  I  believe,  after  tea.  Why? 
What's  the  matter  in  that?  " 

"  The  matter's  this,"  George  replied,  with  a 
deep  breath.  "It  so  happens  that  I'm  sick  to 
death  of  walkin'  about  ;  and,  again,  it  so  happens 
that  I  thought  of  havin'  a  few  words  with  your 
father  to-night,  rather  particular,  too." 

"  Oh  I  "  Selina  looked  at  the  roadway,  plucked 
at  her  handkerchief,  and  had  nothing  more  to 
say,  as  for  fear  of  spoiling  a  good  resolve. 

**  Look  here  !  "  George  seemed  uncertain,  but 
very  much  in  earnest,  all  the  same.  He  looked 
along  the  pavement  both  ways.  "  Look  here  ! — 
move  up  the  street  a  bit." 

They  moved  halfway  up  Tamplin  Street,  and 
paused  again.  It  was  all  rather  vague,  but  Selina 
was  only  conscious  of  feeling  considerably  nearer 
the  altar -goal  than  she  had  ever  been  able  to  feel 
yet. 

**  It's  like  this,"  said  George.  "  I  really  meant 
to  see  him,  privately  like,  and  I  don't  see  why — 
Where's   your  mother?  " 

**  In  the  shop,  serving.  I  heard  father  say  she 
was  to  keep  in  there  till  Mr.  Casswade  went." 
Selina,  in  a  tremble  of  suspense,  tore  at  the  hem 
of  her  handkerchief.     "  Why?  " 

"  Nothin' — 'cept  that  I've  jest  thought.  We 
can  go  in  and  sit  quiet  in  the  little  back  room,  I 
s'pose,  if  we  want  to — and  then  I  can  say  what  I 
want  as  soon  as  he's  gone." 

"  I  believe  you  downright  hate  Mr.  Casswade," 
Selina  said,  softly. 


LOW    SOCIETY  187 

**  I've  as  much  right  there  as  him,"  George  re- 
plied, with  unusual  heat. 

"  Oh,  certainly.  But  What  I  mean  is,  you  can 
be  properly  jealous  when  you  like,  can't  you? 
At  any  rate,  you  were  over  young  Sanders,  you 
must  admit.  I  believe  you've  met  him  and  done 
something  to  frighten  him." 

'"  Lifted  my  eyebrow,  p'r'aps."  George's 
roving  glance  came  back  to  her  rather  suddenly. 
**  You've  got  your  key — the  private  door  key, 
haven't  you?  "  he  asked,  with  a  yawn. 

"  I  don't  know.  Why?"  She  started  fumbling 
in  her  skirts. 

"Make  haste,"  muttered  George.  **  Do  you 
have  to  undress  to  find  your  pockets  now?  " 

'*  No,  I  haven't  got  it  with  me." 

"  Of  course  you  haven't  ;  you  never  have. 
Well,  come  on  :  if  I  don't  speak  to  him  to-night,  I 
shan't  at  all."  He  moved  on  toward  Mr.  Shadd's. 
*'  You  can  go  in  through  the  shop  and  say  you've 
forgotten  somethin' — your  brains  or  your  handker- 
chief— and  then  come  and  let  me  in  quiet  at  the 
side  door.     No  need  to  say  youVe  met  me  yet." 

*'  You  must  have  something  wonderful  to  say  1  " 
whispered  Selina,  on  the  verge  of  a  nervous 
ecstasy.  "Won't  it  keep?  I  s'pose  not."  She 
pictured  a  preliminary  fugitive  rehearsal  in  the 
small  back  parlour,  and  intuitively  guessed  that 
he  could  scarcely  contain  himself  until  the  ordeal 
was  passed. 

*'  It  'ud  keep,  but  I  don't  want  it  to,"  he  said, 
significantly.  "  Go  on  in,  do  !  "  He  was  evi- 
dently screwed  up  to  the  necessary  excitement. 

She  went  in,  her  full  figure  obscuring  his  own 


1 88  LOW    SOCIETY 

as  he  passed  the  shop  doorway  and  waited  beyond. 
He  was  of  different  stuff  from  the  man  who,  with 
finger-nails  dug  into  his  palms,  counts  mentally 
the  passing  beats  of  Time  ;  he  simply  stared  out 
ahead  and  whistled  reflectively  to  himself.  And 
presently  the  side  door  opened,  and  Selina  tittered. 
George  moved  inside  smartly,  and  held  the  door. 

**  Where's  your  father?  "  he  asked. 

"Just  coming  downstairs.     Why?" 

"  Look  here  I  "  He  gripped  her  arm  feverishly. 
"  P'r'aps  I'd  rather — er — do  it  alone.  I  could 
speak  better  without  you  listenin'.  Go  on  1 — 
you  wait  down  at  the  end  of  the  High  Street  till  I 
come.  Casswade's  sure  not  to  stay  long.  Yes, 
go  on  !  " 

He  gave  her  a  helping  push  outward,  and 
clicked  the  door  behind  her.  He  paused  just  long 
enough  to  hear  her  walk  away,  and  then  went  on 
tiptoe  down  the  dim  passage,  and  into  the  small 
back  parlour  aforesaid — that  was  really  a  kitchen, 
only  the  Shadds  thought  the  scullery  quite  spacious 
enough.  A  very  low  gaslight  was  burning  here — 
Selina  had  run  in  to  regulate  it  in  readiness,  no 
doubt.  He  had  only  to  draw  a  bolt,  and  another 
door  let  him  out  into  the  Shadds'  garden — a  ten- 
feet  square  paved  with  egg-boxes  and  margarine - 
kegs.  He  could  look  through  the  curtains  into 
the  bigger  front  room. 

He  could  do  nothing  more.  Mr.  Shadd  had 
just  taken  up  his  position — one  of  easy  affluence, 
beside  a  table  on  which  were  placed  a  decanter, 
ash-tray,  glasses,  and  two  or  three  articles  of 
electro  -  silver  ware,  which  he  moved  now  and 
again  so  as  to  gain  a  better  effect  of  everyday  use 


LOW    SOCIETY  189 

and  carelessness  as  to  expense.  He  had  a  long 
cigar  ready,  too.  He  lit  it,  closed  his  eyes  and 
puffed  the  smoke  in  several  directions  to  give  the 
room  an  Oriental  odour,  made  a  grimace,  and  laid 
the  cigar  down.  In  the  same  instant  he  was  on 
his  feet,  his  hand  extended  for  an  easy,  welcoming 
wave.  The  door  was  open,  and  Casswade's  im- 
posing figure,  with  a  fleshy  bulge  which  he  carried 
before  him  like  a  poised  basket,  appeared.  It  was 
not  solely  by  chance  that  he  had  preferred  again 
to  enter  by  way  of  the  shop.  It  created  more 
noise,  bustle  and  sense  of  importance  in  contrast 
to  the  bacon  and  eggs  and  other  mean  sources  of 
livelihood  lying  around. 

In  this  momentary  stir,  Baversham  slid  up  his 
hand.  The  night  being  comparatively  mild  and 
airless,  the  top  window  was  open  an  inch  or  so  ; 
Baversham  pushed  up  the  bottom  window  an  inch 
or  so,  to  match. 

Now,  if  he  wished,  he  could  both  see  and  hear 
all  that  passed.  If  Mrs.  Shadd  quitted  the  shop  at 
all,  she  must  pass  through  the  front  parlour.  If 
Mr.  Shadd  looked  like  making  for  the  rear  of  the 
premises  at  any  moment,  George  had  only  to  turn 
into  the  small  room  beside  him  and  sit  down  by 
the  post -card  album  in  an  absorbed  attitude — wait- 
ing until  the  other  visitor  had  gone.  In  a  word, 
George  had  no  intention  of  leaving  behind  him 
the  scent  of  premeditated  design. 

"And  how  are  we?"  asked  Casswade,  in  his 
deepest  voice. 

**  Nicely,  thank  you  ;  as  well  as  can  be  nowa- 
days !  **  Mr.  Shadd  smoothed  his  hands,  looked  all 
round,  remembered  the  cigar,  caught  it  up,  and 


I90  LOW    SOCIETY 

puffed    hastily.       **  And    how's    yourself,    may    I 
ask?'* 

'*  You  may,"  Casswade  answered,  curtly  ;  '*  but 
I  didn't  come  to  talk  any  empty  bloomin'  twaddle 
to-night,  if  that's  anythin'." 

*'  Oh,  quite  so,  quite  so — that  goes  without 
saying — of  course  !  " 

**  That's  all  right,  then.  I  get  sick  o'  bloomin' 
people  gassin'  about  their  feelin's,  and  the  weather, 
and  all  the  rest  of  it.  If  a  man's  alive,  I  can  see 
it  ;  if  he's  dead,  I  don't  want  to  see  him.  And 
that's  good  enough  for  me." 

**  There,  now — precisely  my  own  way  of  think- 
ing," Mr.  Shadd  observed,  as  if  struck. 

*'  Don't  tell  lies,"  said  Casswade,  shortly.  He 
did  not  care  for  his  theories  to  appear  too  cheap 
and  commonplace.  "  You  wouldn't  be  a  bloomin* 
church -deacon,  if  you  thought  like  I  do  in  any  way 
whatsoever." 

There  was  an  air  of  "  something  to  come  " 
about  him  to-night.  He  had  taken  off  his  hat 
and  overcoat  with  extra  deliberation,  walked  to 
the  fireplace  to  spit,  returned  to  place  a  fat  pocket- 
book  on  the  table  with  a  bang,  and  then  prepared 
to  dispose  himself  in  the  chair  placed  ready.  This 
took  time,  as  he  had  to  turn  up  the  chair  once 
or  twice  for  safety's  sake  with  a  grunt  of 
comment . 

*'  Three -and -nine  would  about  buy  your  little 
lot,  wouldn't  it?"  he  remarked,  referring  either 
to  the  chairs  or  to  the  furniture  in  general. 
*'  Gettin'  married  didn't  run  you  into  ruin,  at  any 
rate." 

Mr.  Shadd  watched  narrowly,  while  trying  to 


LOW    SOCIETY  191 

look  the  other  way.     He  would  not  speak.     To 
appear  anxious  at  all  was  simply  fatal. 

**  Well  !  "  Casswade  said,  sitting  back,  his  hand 
on  the  pocket-book.  It  was  the  air  and  tone  of  a 
man  about  to  reveal  nothing  less  than  the  findings 
of  a  Secret  Commission.  "  I  said  I  was  comin', 
and  I'm  here." 

Mr.  Shadd  hardly  breathed.  Then  suddenly, 
aware  of  his  visitor's  fishy  little  eye  glaring 
directly,  he  sprang  for  the  decanter  and  poured 
out  a  reckless  measure. 

**  Steady,"  Casswade  said.  "  I  ain't  a  barrel. 
I  do  my  drinkin'  up  at  the  local  when  I  leave  here, 
and  the  rest  at  home  if  I  want  it.  Now  I  "  He 
took  up  the  glass,  and  looked  all  rounds 
"Where's  she?  Selina,  I  mean — where  was  she 
off  to?" 

**  Er — she  went  out  to  meet  her  young  man." 

**  I  thought  so.  .  .  .  Well,  she's  got  no 
young  man."  He  drained  the  glass  to  the  last 
drop,  and  set  it  down. 

A  pause.  '*  I  was  half  afraid  of  it,"  Mr.  Shadd 
whispered  with  dry  lips,  not  knowing  in  the  least 
what  he  meant. 

In  other  words,"  Casswade  proceeded,  taking 
no  notice,  **  out  o'  that  man's  own  mouth — or 
inkpot,  whichever  you  like — he's  crabbed  hisself 
for  all  time.  Who  was  it  told  you  all  along  what 
he  was  ?  Me  !  Who  was  it  sat  here  and  thought 
of  an  idea  that  might  draw  him  out  ?  Me  1  And 
who's  had  all  the  undertalk  and  nasty  looks  shoved 
on  him?  Me  !  Not  that  I  mind — I  don't  want 
to  be  any  man's  bosom  friend — I  jest  simply  re- 
call it  as  a  fact.    ,    .    ,     Er — five  hundred  pounds 


192  LOW    SOCIETY 

odd,  I  think  you  settled  it  your  daughter's  young 
man  had  got  behind  him?  " 

'*  There  or  thereabouts,"  said  Mr.  Shadd^ 
shakily.  '*  We  both  thought  so,  if  you  re- 
member." 

'*  Oh,  did  we  ?  You  speak  for  yourself.  What's 
his  name  ? — Baversham,  ain't  it  ?  Well,  Baver- 
sham  Esquire's  got  jest  forty-five  quid  in  the  wide 
world — and  p'r'aps  another  ten  bob  put  by  for  his 
funeral.  And  if  you're  goin'  to  allow  your 
daughter — your  own  offspring — to  be  fooled  and 
married  by  a  feller  like  that — well,  there,  p'r'aps 
you  think  it's  good  enough,  to  get  her  off  your 
hands.     Wouldn't  do  for  us  all  to  think  alike." 

He  lit  a  big  briar  pipe,  lay  back,  and  puffed 
placidly.  When  at  length  he  glanced  round  he 
saw  that  Mr.  Shadd,  never  very  healthy-looking, 
was  of  a  fish -belly  pallor,  and  had  a  genuine! 
difficulty  in  suppressing  emotion.  It  stirred  even 
Casswade.  He  spat  his  own  emotion  across  the 
carpet .  ^ 

"  I'd  shoot  him,"  he  said.  **  No,  I  wouldn't— 
I'd  truss  him  afore  her  eyes.  I'd — I'd  ram  a 
butter-tub  over  his  head  and  spike  him  on  the 
front  railing." 

There  was  no  front  railing,  but  Mr.  Shadd  was 
past  carping.  With  a  long,  straining  sigh — almost 
a  sob — he  turned  desperately  to  the  decanter,  and 
swallowed  iii  gulps  sufficient  whiskey  to  restore  any 
man's  faculties  to  par. 

**  I  will  !  "  he  affirmed,  gasping  and  choking. 
**  I  mean  it.     I'll  show  him." 

**  I  should  think  so."  Casswade  laid  open  his 
pocket-book,    while   the    iron    was    hot.      "  Now, 


LOW    SOCIETY  193 

then,  don't  run  past  yourself.  See  it  all  out  in 
black  and  white,  afore  you  judge  him.  Know  his 
address?     Know  his  handwritin' ?  " 

Mr.  Shadd  knew  both.     He  nodded  limply. 

**  Well,  then,  here  you  are.  It's  took  him  a 
whole  month  to  nibble,  as  you  might  expect  by  the 
cut  of  him  ;  but  he's  bit,  and  that's  everythin'. 
Somehow,  I  thought  he  might,  by  his  sawney  look. 
That's  the  letter  he  sent  to  my  lawyer's  place  on 
Monday  mornin' — posted  late  Sunday  night." 

**  How  did  you  come  by  it  ?  "  rattled  Mr.  Shadd, 
trying  to  fit  his  spectacles  under  his  nose  instead 
of  above  it. 

**  Never  mind  that — look  what  you're  doin*, 
you  fool.  There  ain't  much  I  don't  see  and 
know  ;  I'm  in  there  nigh  every  day,  on  bis'ness  ; 
and  I  know  one  or  two  o*  the  clerks  outside  to 
speak  to,  and  I  kep'  it  in  my  mind  all  along. 
Don't  sit  there  snivellin' — read  it,  like  a  man." 

And  Mr.  Shadd  read  it  slowly,  tremulously, 
aloud.  To  read  it  to  himself  alone  seemed  un- 
canny . 

'*  Sir, — Your  firm  having  been  highly  mentioned 
to  me  by  a  business  friend,  I  write  to  ask  a  favour, 
for  which  I  am  prepared  to  pay  a  fee  within  reason 
if  anything  results.  For  some  time  past  I  have 
been  thinking  of  a  small  business — Barking  pre- 
ferred— and  am  not  particular  as  to  what  it  is  as 
long  as  I  can  see  a  weekly  profit — sufficient,  of 
course,  to  keep  a  young  couple  going  fairly. 

*'  I  have  in  the  Post  Office  Savings  Bank  a  sum 
of  forty -five  pounds,  and  might  save  a  little  more 
between  now  and  Easter,  but  would  rather  not  go 
beyond  my  means.     If  you  think  this  not  suitable 

L.S.  O 


194  LOW    SOCIETY 

for  my  purpose,  I  am  given  to  understand  that  you 
know  of  good  investments  likely  to  turn  out  well. 
Any  transaction  will,  I  presume,  be  treated  as 
strictly  private.  My  chief  reason  in  writing  is  to 
dispose  of  my  savings  profitably.  The  favour  of  a 
reply  would  oblige,  yours  truly,  G.  Baversham." 

Mr.  Shadd  read  it  through  as  slowly  a  second 
time,  and  was  beginning  yet  again  still  more 
slowly.  Casswade  brought  his  open  hand  down 
like  a  thunderclap  on  the  table. 

"  That's  enough,"  he  said  ;  "  you  don't  want  to 
eat  the  bloomin'  thing.  Is  it  there,  or  isn't  it? 
Was  I  right,  or  wasn't  I?  " 

**  It's  cruel,"  faltered  Mr.  Shadd,  laying  the 
letter  down.     *'  Oh,  it's  a  wicked  thing,  this  is  I  " 

"Wicked?  That's  nothin'.  It's  bleed'n  rob- 
bery, that's  what  it  is.  Here's  a  feller  comes  and 
offers  you  five  hundred  odd  for  your  daughter,  so 
to  speak — gets  her — and  then  weighs  out  forty- 
five  quid  and  a  broad  grin.  Why,"  said  Cass- 
wade, roused  almost  to  a  roar,  **  the  man's  got 
nothin',  you  might  say.  Nothin'  !  What  about 
the  furniture  ?  A  fold-up  bed,  and  one  or  two 
knicknacks,  and  his  money's  gone.  He'll  be  comin' 
to  you — you — with  the  blessed  bill  for  the  weddin' 
breakfast.  And  then  you'll  have  to  keep  and 
clothe  his  kids — and  he's  bound  to  have  a  crowd. 
I'd  brain  him  with  them  tongs,  I  would." 

**  I'll  expose  him."  Worked  up  at  last,  Mr. 
Shadd  rose.  "  I'll  brand  him  in  the  eyes  of 
Barking.  I'll  confront  him  with  it,  this  very 
night.     Give  me  that  letter  1  " 

They  made  a  simultaneous  grab,  but  Casswade 
got  there  first. 


LOW    SOCIETY  195 

**  Oh,  no,"  he  said.  He  tore  it  carefully  into 
strips  and  placed  them  in  his  pocket.  "  That's 
done  with.  If  you  like  to  get  into  such  a  bog, 
that's  your  look-out.     You  can't  drag  me  into  it." 

**  What  would  you  do  ?  "  rattled  the  other,  the 
picture  of  hollow-eyed  helplessness. 

"Do?  Well,  I  reckon  I've  said  what  I'd  do. 
I'd  look  a  bit  ferocious  over  it,  for  a  start.  If  I 
hadn't  got  the  pluck  to  touch  him,  I'd  touch  her.'' 

*'  But — but  if  she  carries  on — if  she  goes  and 
does  anything " 

**  She  can't.  I'd  tie  her  by  the  hair  to  somethin' 
upstairs.     Are  you  her  father,  or  ain't  you?  " 

Mr.  Shadd  took  another  desperate  throatful  of 
whiskey.  '*  Mr.  Casswade,"  he  said,  in  a  suffo- 
cated voice,  **  no  one  could  blame  me  if  I  got 
drunk  to-night.  I  shall — I  feel  it.  What — what 
have  they  replied  to  him?     Tell  me  that." 

**  I  dunno.  I  should  guess  they  told  him  in 
legal  language  what  they  thought  of  him.  At  any 
rate,  he  wrote  back  yesterday  to  say  he  was  sorry 
he'd  troubled  'em  ;  and  there's  an  end  of  it — 'cept 
that  he's  still  got  your  Selina  safe  up  his 
sleeve." 

**  Has  he?"  Mr.  Shadd  struck  out  at  an  in- 
visible face  in  front  of  him,  and  nearly  fell.  *'  You 
wait.  Only  wait.  My  Selina's  got  a  heart  of  gold. 
She's  been  deceived  ;  but  that's  all.  Let  him  show 
his  face  here  to-night,  or  any  other  night.  I'd 
like — I'd  like  you  to  see  hers,  when  she  hears  that 
he  only  wanted  her  for  what  he  could  get.  The 
lying  scoundrel  !  She'd  never  —  never  have 
looked  twice  at  his  mealy,  freckled  face  if  he 
hadn't  had  something  to  make  up  a  little  for  his 

o  2 


196  LOW    SOCIETY 

looks — as  we  thought.  She's  said  so.  Call  him 
a  man?     I— I " 

He  seized  the  decanter  in  abandonment  again, 
and  drank  from  it  direct,  disdaining  a  tumbler. 
The  whiskey  poured  down  his  neck,  inside  and  out. 
He  sank  into  his  chair,  choking,  but  still  striking 
feebly  out  with  one  hand  to  show  that  the  fighting - 
mood  was  no  make-believe.  Then  gradually  his 
head  went  down  until  only  the  bald  top  showed  ; 
and  he  resembled  nothing  more  dangerous  than  a 
fowl   in  moult. 

Casswade  gave  a  snort  of  disgust,  got  up,  put 
on  his  hat  and  coat,  and  made  to  depart.  There 
happened  to  be  no  customers  in  the  shop.  Mrs. 
Shadd  lifted  the  counter -flap  and  nodded  and 
smiled  incessantly  as  he  squeezed  through  side- 
ways.    It  annoyed  Mr.  Casswade. 

*'  Not  quite  so  much  of  it,*'  he  said,  between  his 
teeth  ;  and  jerked  his  thumb  toward  the  front 
parlour.  "  Have  a  look  at  your  husband.  Looks 
all  right  for  a  deacon,  don't  he  ?  " 

He  passed  out  and  went  down  the  street,  his 
bulk  poised  swayingly  before  him.  Selina  Shadd 
was  turning  into  Tamplin  Street  just  as  he  turned 
out  of  it  ;  but  it  so  happened  that  she  did  not  see 
him. 

She  was  out  of  breath,  having  suddenly  grasped 
that  no  woman  of  spirit  could  be  expected  to  walk 
tamely  up  and  down  a  strip  of  pavement  the  while 
her  future  was  being  mapped  out.  Her  proper 
place  would  have  been  to  sit  and  hold  George's 
hand  tightly  while  he  broke  through  his  reserve — 
to  assist,  figuratively,  at  the  long-delayed  hatching 
of    a    precious    egg.      Goodness    knew,    she    had 


LOW    SOCIETY  197 

watched  it  long  enough,  and  feared  at  times  it  was 
unfertile . 

She  burst  through  the  shop,  and  paused,  staring 
round.  "What's  the  matter?"  she  asked,  her 
voice  cracking  a  little. 

"  Matter?  Can't  you  see?  Your  father's  had  a 
fit,  or  something.  Don't  let  George  in,  whatever 
you  do.     Shut  the  door — keep  him  out  !  " 

Selina  did  not  move.  She  stood  as  one  in  a 
trance.  What  she  felt,  would  never  be  known. 
She  saw  her  father  moan  and  turn  up  his  eyes  in 
the  effort  to  explain  that  Mrs.  Shadd's  first-aid 
movement — a  violent  shaking  and  rubbing — was 
only  adding  to  his  inward  sensations  ;  but  she 
could  not  feel  the  faintest  surprise  or  interest, 
much  less  a  desire  to  help. 

"Where  is  he?"  she  whispered  mechanically, 
as  Mrs.  Shadd  paused  in  exhaustion.  **  What 
have  you  done  to  him?  " 

"Done  to  him?"  panted  Mrs.  Shadd.  "Are 
you  struck  balmy?  Get  your  things  off,  and  do 
something,  do.     Look  at  him  I  " 

Selina  put  out  a  clenched  hand  strainingly. 

"  Don't,"  she  breathed,  "  don't  think  I'm  a 
child  any  longer  ;  I'm  not.  Where  is  he  — 
George?  " 

And  Mr.  Shadd's  limply -hanging  head  lifted  a 
little.     He  stared,  and  muttered  thickly. 

"  George  !  Yes,  where  is  he?  Bring  him  here. 
I'll — I'll  shatter  every  bone  in  his  body  !  " 

"What  for?"  choked  Selina,  taking  a  step. 
"  What's  he  said?— What's  he  done?  " 

"What's  he  done?  I'll  show  him.  He — he's 
got  no  money.     Casswade's  proved  it.     Let  him  — 


198  LOW    SOCIETY 

let  him  come  here  again  on  the  cheap — that*s  all. 

rii— rii " 

Mr.  Shadd's  head  lurched  forward,  and  then 
sideways.  He  had  collapsed,  too  far  gone  to 
think  it  a  mercy. 

**  Hold  him  up,"  shrieked  Mrs.  Shadd.  "  He's 
dying.     Hold  his " 

"Where's  George?"  Selina  shrieked  back. 
"What's  he  done  to  him?  Will  you  answer  or 
not?" 

She  ran  for  the  little  back  parlour,  and  stared 
wildly  round.  No  one  !  With  another  gasp  she 
snatched  at  a  little  envelope  lying  upon  the  table, 
and  tore  it  open. 

"  I'm  gone,"  was  scrawled  on  a  slip  of  paper 
inside.  "  You  can  tell  them  how  you  let  me  in 
here,  or  not,  just  as  you  like.  If  you  want  to 
know  where  I  am,  you  can  go  on  wanting.  If 
anyone  else  wants  to  know,  I'm  in  the  mud  at  the 
bottom  of  the  river.     George  B." 

A  minute  more,  and  Selina  had  groped  a  blind 
way  upstairs,  flung  herself  along  the  bed,  and 
bitten  her  pillow  just  in  time  to  stifle  a  series  of 
screams  that  would  have  startled  all  Barking. 


CHAPTER    XVII 

Boom  1   .   .    .  Wow — ow — ow  1   .    .    .  Boom  I 

If  there  was  one  thing  Mr.  Matt  Casswade  re- 
sented even  more  than  he  resented  lack  of  enter- 
prise in  other  people,  it  was  a  howling  winter 
wind  ;  and  both  were  very  much  in  evidence  on 
that  following  Monday  afternoon,  as  he  made  a 
slow  way  homeward  from  the  New  Eden  estate. 

Twice  his  hat  had  lifted  from  his  head  and  gone 
spinning  on  in  advance  ;  and  twice  he  had  had  to 
stand  and  look  amused  while  someone  less  handi- 
capped physically  went  after  it.  On  the  second 
occasion  it  was  a  small  boy,  and  he  prolonged  the 
chase  in  expectation  of  increased  reward,  making 
abortive  swoops  with  hand  or  foot  which  did  not 
add  to  the  symmetry  of  the  rolling  headgear. 

"  Look  at  it,"  said  Mr.  Casswade,  when  at  last 
it  was  handed  to  him.  "  I  give  three  half-crowns 
for  that  hat  ;  and  now  look  at  it.  You  ought  to 
be  ashamed  o'  yourself.  I  was  goin'  to  give  you 
sixpence  ;  I  shan't." 

The  long  spell  of  grey,  silent  days,  with  muff- 
ling mist  at  night,  had  apparently  broken. 
There  was  a  chill,  tearful  wind  from  south-west 
which  kept  up  sustained,  purposeless  howls  sug- 
gesting a  pack  of  starved  but  cowardly  wolves  in 
the  distance  ;  and  at  intervals,  between  the  howls, 
boomed   out   that   irritating   roar   from   the   great 


200  LOW    SOCIETY 

practice -guns  away  at  Woolwich.  Under  such 
conditions,  with  little  knots  of  blue-nosed,  white- 
faced  **  Sons  of  Empire  "  singing  or  begging  for 
assistance  here  and  there  along  the  route,  no  more 
depressing  environment  than  this  portion  of  South- 
ern Essex  could  be  conceived.  The  numbers  of 
the  unwanted  and  unfed — who  consequently  bred 
the  unfit — threatened  to  become  indecently  large 
this  winter.  Crawling  out  from  London's  heart 
and  back  again,  in  all  directions,  they  were  un- 
sightly specks  on  every  highway.  Mr.  Casswade, 
who  had  not  himself  contributed  to  the  redundant 
population,  had  a  distinct  and  growing  grievance. 

'*  I  pay  my  rates  and  taxes  like  clockwork,"  he 
said,  almost  nightly.  "  I  say  it's  a  bloomin' 
wicked  country  that  can  keep  on  findin'  big  pen- 
sions for  Cabinet  Ministers  and  others  that  don't 
require  'em,  and  chucks  to  Charity  them  that 
only  want  bread  in  their  innards  and  a  shirt  on 
their  out'ards." 

Mr.  Casswade  resembled  clockwork  in  his 
domestic  habits,  too — especially  as  to  meals.  Miss 
Pugh  generally  sensed  his  homecoming,  and  made 
a  dart  for  the  door,  but  was  generally  baulked,  as 
he  preferred  the  quick  use  of  his  key — thinking 
to  take  her  unawares  in  some  inanity  or  misuse 
of  his  goods.  On  this  occasion  she  got  halfway 
down  the  passage. 

'*  So  blustering  1  Come  along,  it's  all  warm  and 
cosy  for  you,"  she  said,  throwing  open  a  door. 
She  had  indeed  made  a  movement,  almost  pathetic 
in  its  wistful  nature,  to  relieve  him  of  his  over- 
coat ;  but  Mr.  Casswade  repelled  it  with  a  glance, 
and    flung   himself    down    into    an    arm-chair    by 


LOW    SOCIETY  20I 

the  fire  just  as  he  was.  **  So  tired  and 
tried,  aren't  you?"  she  cooed,  as  she  poked 
the    coals . 

"  No,  I'm  not,"  said  Mr.  Casswade.  "I'm 
about  fed-up  with  everythin',  that's  all." 

"  Not  with  me,  I  hope,"  dared  Miss  Pugh,  her 
finger  laid  to  her  drooped  cheek  meditatively. 
She  really  worked  very  long  and  cheerfully  for 
her  money,  and  had  waited  months  for  Mr.  Cass- 
wade to  notice  how  slim  and  attractive  she  looked 
in  the  black  silk  afternoon  robe — especially  be- 
tween the  lights,  when  men  are  most  susceptible, 
and  feminine  outlines  appear  as  soft  and  suggestive 
as  they  ought  to  do. 

*'  Yes,  you  and  all,"  he  said,  almost  violently. 
"  You  as  much  as  anyone." 

For  a  moment  Miss  Pugh  could  not  speak.  She 
was  tired  herself,  and  could  easily  have  burst  into 
tears,  only  that  tears  had  a  singularly  unpleasant 
and  unnatural  elTect  upon  Mr.  Casswade.  She  was 
accustomed  to  his  blunt  generalities,  but  some- 
thing in  his  manner  now  seemed  to  imply  that  he 
had  been  brooding  specifically. 

"  Something  has  been  said,  I  suppose,"  she 
whispered,  absently.  "  It  always  was  so,  and 
always  will  be.     I  can  bear  it." 

"  You  can  do  what  you  like,"  he  retorted,  kick- 
ing the  fireirons.  "  You're  no  better  than  any- 
body else,  are  you?  " 

"  Oh,  no!  ''  she  breathed.  **  Don't  think  that 
— I  am  not  above  reproach.  I  do  my  duty  in  my 
sphere,  I  hope  ;  if  it's  appreciated,  I'm  paid.  If 
it's  not,  it's  not." 

'*  That's  all  right,  then."     He  bent  stubbornly 


202  LOW    SOCIETY 

to  see  to  his  boots.  He  could  not  argue  with 
people  who  talked  about  duty  and  spheres. 

"  Sit  still  !  "  With  a  sudden  surge  of  daring, 
impelled  by  pique,  Miss  Pugh  had  slipped  to  her 
knees.  **  Sit  still  I  "  she  repeated,  tremblingly. 
*'  If  I  don't  do  enough,  you  shall  know  it's  not 
from  want  of  thought."  And  she  rapidly  uncoiled 
the  laces,  and  tugged  till  the  boots  came  away. 
With  another  determined  spasm,  she  held  him 
back  with  one  hand  while  she  reached  for  his 
slippers  with  the  other,  and  fitted  them  on  carefully 
herself.  She  was  quite  pink  in  the  face  as  she 
rose.    "  There,  it's  all  I  can  do,  but  I've  done  it  I  " 

With  uncertain  sounds  in  her  throat,  she  ran 
from  the  room,  leaving  Mr.  Casswade  to  stare 
glassily  at  his  feet  and  then  at  the  door. 

"  She's  gone  mad,  now,"  was  his  muttered  com- 
ment. *'  We're  goin'  on  all  right,  one  things  and 
another,  I'm  blowed  if  we  ain't." 

Presently  Miss  Pugh  tapped  and  rustled  in 
again,  looking  suspiciously  clean  about  the  eyes. 
She  carried  a  teapot  and  a  plate  of  bread  sliced 
ready  for  toasting.  She  went  down  on  her  knees 
again,  while  Mr.  Casswade  glared  heavily  at  a 
youthful  strip  of  velvet  around  her  throat,  and 
wondered  what  it  was  supposed  to  be  there  for. 

"  The  crumpet  man  didn't  call — or  else  I  was 
dressing,"  she  said,  in  a  subdued,  far-away  voice. 
**  And  I  wouldn't  keep  up  a  big  kitchen  fire,  to 
waste  the  coals.  I  think  of  them  as  if  they  were 
my  own  coals  ;  it's  in  my  nature,  I  suppose." 

"  Lot  o'  funny  things  in  your  nature,  it  strikes 
me,"  he  said.  And  Miss  Pugh  looked  ready  to 
cry  again,  but  thought  better  of  it. 


LOW    SOCIETY  203 

Casswade's  restless  glance  roved  round  to  the 
teapot,  wrapped  in  a  crimson  **  cosy  "  with  tassels. 

**  You've  got  that  bloomin*  thing  on  again, 
then,"  he  complained.  If  there  was  one  domestic 
trifle  that  roused  him  when  cantankerously  in- 
clined, it  was  this  same  aesthetic  covering  for  the 
teapot — perhaps  because  it  was  one  of  the  very 
few  points  in  housekeeping  upon  which  Miss  Pugh 
silently  ignored  him.  To-night,  the  sight  of  it 
acted  as  a  red  rag  flaunted  before  a  bull.  **  I 
thought  I've  said  times  out  o'  number  I  wouldn't 
have  it  ?  How  do  I  know  which  is  the  bloomin' 
handle  or  the  spout,  with  that  lump  o'  flannel  all 
round  it  ?  " 

**  It  is  not  flannel.  I  worked  it.  And  you  need 
not  excite  yourself,"  answered  Miss  Pugh,  with 
faint  dignity.  **  I  always  pour  your  tea,  and 
always  shall." 

"  That's  nothin'  to  do  with  it.  You  will  have 
your  own  way,  won't  you?  You're  like  all  the 
rest  o'  the  wimmen.  Blowed  1  "  he  said,  striking 
the  tea-tray.  "  I'll  have  an  end  to  it.  I'll  get 
married  myself.     I've  said  I  will,  and  I  will." 

"I'm  sure,  I  hope  you'll  be  very  happy,  Mr. 
Casswade,"  she  replied,  more  faintly  still. 

"  Happy  !  Oh,  I'll  take  care  o'  that.  You 
leave  it  to  me.  She's  got  to  do  as  I  tell  her.** 
He  drew  up  his  chair  to  the  table. 

Miss  Pugh  rose,  lit  the  gas,  buttered  the  toast, 
filled  his  cup,  and  was  turning. 

**  Hi  !  Take  that  off,"  he  said,  pointing  to  the 
teapot  cover.  **  That  1  "  And  she  mutely  obeyed. 
It  had  taken  her  tedious  days  to  crochet  and 
fashion,  and  she  stood  a  moment  with  it  hanging 


204  LOW    SOCIETY 

from  her  fingers.  Then,  a  little  to  his  surprise, 
she  stooped  quietly  and  thrust  it  into  the  ashes 
below  the  grate.  *'  Ah,  that's  your  temper,"  he 
muttered. 

"  No,"  she  said  ;  "it  is  because  there  is  a  just 
limit  to  even  a  woman's  endurance  ;  and  lately 
you  have  done  your  utmost,  it  seems  to  me,  to 
overstep  it.     Never  mind." 

"  What  d'you  mean?  "  His  mouth  full  of  toast, 
he  stared  her  up  and  down.  "  I  tell  you  what  it 
has  seemed  lately,  and  what  I  don't  like  at  all — 
that  you  seem  to  run  this  bloomin'  household  jest 
as  you  think  fit,  and  that  I'm  becomin'  a  blessed 
skittle,  shoved  here,  there  and  everywhere.  Now 
you  know." 

Miss  Pugh,  her  head  bent,  went  out  at  the  door. 
She  reappeared.  It  had  only  taken  her  a  few 
seconds  to  give  her  features  the  necessary  com- 
posed setting. 

**  This  is  Monday,"  she  whispered.  "  We  need 
say  nothing  about  the  two  odd  days.  By  this  time 
on  Saturday,  I'll  be  out  of  your  way  for  good  and 
ever." 

He  wiped  his  mouth  and  reflected.  '*  Found 
somethin'  in  the  paper — my  paper?  "  he  queried, 
almost  amicably. 

**  No  ;  I  have  no  time  here  to  even  look  at  the 
papers — your   papers." 

"  All  right.  Do  as  you  like.  I  don't  care  if 
the  bloomin'  house  blows  up  to-morrow  mornin'." 

She  vanished.  She  reappeared — this  time  a 
little  precipitately.  For  the  instant  it  struck  him 
that  she  was  about  to  rush  across  and  throw  her 
arms  about  him  in  sheer  abandonment  or  farewell 


LOW    SOCIETY  205 

— he  got  ready.    But  she  only  pulled  back  the  tea- 
tray,  and  drew  a  sharp  breath  of  relief. 

"I'm  sorry/*  she  whispered.  "  I  quite  forgot 
for  the  moment  it  was  there.  It  came  just  before 
you  did." 

Mr.  Casswade  tore  open  the  letter.  His  face 
underwent  two  or  three  interesting  changes  as  he 
read — from  mystification  to  derision,  and  thence 
to  annoyance  and  difficulty. 

Not  the  least  of  Mr.  Casswade*s  ineradicable 
aversions  was  that  for  anything  in  the  shape  of  a 
**  party,"  or  any  function  of  a  social  nature  which 
might  come  under  that  heading.  As  far  as  it 
lay  in  him  to  feel  a  sort  of  partiality  for  any 
person,  he  had  been  favourably  impressed  by 
young  Hungerford  ;  but  only  in  the  abstract — 
only  in  a  strictly  commercial  sense.  Young  Hun- 
gerford had  clearly  made  the  supposed  financial 
obligation  a  lever  for  some  deeper  sentiment. 

"  I  don't  want  to  go  to  the  blessed  man's 
house,"  Casswade  muttered.  "  Never  give  it 
another  thought.  Why  can't  he  meet  me  in  a 
pub .  somewhere,  and  say  what  he  wants  ?  Me  and 
'  Mrs.  Casswade  '  !  " 

It  would  have  been  easy  to  tear  it  up  and  reply 
to  that  eff^ect  on  one  of  the  pictorial  postcards 
which  represented  the  New  Eden  estate  as  a  tract 
of  land  almost  tropical  in  its  colouring  and  en- 
chantment. But  Mr.  Casswade,  his  brows  pucker- 
ing, allowed  himself  to  read  the  letter  through 
again . 
**  9,  Mandalay  Gardens,  Sunday,  13th  November. 

"  Dear  Mr.  Casswade, — I  have  by  no  means  lost 
sight  of  your  promise  to  bring  Mrs.  C.  to  spend 


2o6  LOW    SOCIETY 

an  hour  or  so  with  us  one  evening,  on  the  strength 
of  the  new  house.  Self  and  wife  would  regard  it 
as  a  distinct  pleasure  to  see  you  both  here  on 
Friday  next  about  7  p.m.  It  so  happens  that  I 
may  be  able  to  do  a  mutually  satisfactory  bit  of 
business  with  you  at  the  same  time,  and  further- 
more expect  a  friend  will  drop  in  with  a  view  to 
house -purchase.  As  that  is  the  only  evening  I  can 
possibly  arrange,  I  hope  it  will  be  convenient  to 
you  both.  Mrs.  C.  and  the  wife  can  chat  com- 
fortably together  while  we  settle  our  affairs.  We 
shall  accept  no  excuse,  mind,  as  I  like  to  keep  to 
my  word.  You  can  leave  us  just  as  soon  as  you 
feel  disposed.  With  kind  regards  to  Mrs.  C, 
"Yours    faithfully,    J.    Hungerford." 

**  Never  see  such  a  man,"  pondered  Mr.  Cass- 
wade,  turning  the  letter  over  and  over.  **  Dunno 
what  to  say  or  do.  He  don't  leave  a  bloomin' 
loophole.  No  doubt  he'd  like  to  be  pals  with  one 
o'  the  biggest  builders  in  the  place — no  doubt  I  " 

When  mentally  perturbed,  or  pursuing  an  idea, 
Mr.  Casswade  had  what  is  known  as  a  short  way 
with  him.  He  went  abruptly  to  the  door,  pro- 
truded his  head,  shouted  out  "  Hi  !  "  and  returned 
to  his  seat  with  a  thud. 

Presently  Miss  Pugh  entered  to  the  extent  of 
about  three  inches,  and  stood  with  a  martyr -like 
resignation. 

**  I  shan't  eat  you,"  he  said.  **  I  dunno  why 
you  wimmen  are  always  shovin'  on  some  fresh 
antic  or  other.  Jest  cast  your  mind  back  :  where 
was  I  that  night  when  you  said  Mr.  Hungerford 
called  here  to  see  me  about  some  bis'ness?  " 

"  Goodness   knows,"    Miss   Pugh   replied,    with 


LOW    SOCIETY  207 

eloquence,  if  whisperingly.  "  I  mean,  you  didn't 
appear  able  to  feel  the  slightest  interest." 

"  Well,  I  did,  as  it  happens.  A  thing  can  slip 
my  memory  if  it  likes,  can't  it  ?  I  s'pose  I  put  it 
down  to  some  crack  in  a  ceilin'  or  other.  Last 
week,  wasn't  it?    You  said  he " 

"  I  said  he  was  tall,  dark,  pale,  and  distin- 
guished-looking— and  quite  a  gentleman,"  put  in 
Miss  Pugh,  with  hushed  rapidity.     **  He  was  !  " 

**  H'm.  *Cause  he  took  you  for  the  missis  here, 
didn't  he?"  mused  Mr.  Casswade  ironically, 
spreading  himself  over  the  fire  as  with  indiffer- 
ence. "  Called  you  '  Mrs.  Casswade,'  I  believe, 
didn't  he?     And  you  let  him  think  it." 

**  I  could  not  help  him  taking  me  for  a  lady," 
said  Miss  Pugh.  She  had  never  looked  more 
erect  and  virginal.  "  It  was  not  my  place  to 
correct  a  slight  misapprehension  on  his  part." 

"Slight,  eh?"  Mr.  Casswade  coughed  as  if 
to  smother  a  very  different  adjective  of  his  own. 
"  Well,  it  don't  signify.  What  I  meant  was,  you 
don't  happen  to  know  at  all  what  he'd  really  come 
about?  " 

"  I  don't.  He  said  that  another  time  would  do, 
lifted  his  hat,  and  went — quite  a  gentleman  !  " 
her  whisper  trailed  away. 

"  All  right.  That's  the  lot.  Er— when  did  you 
say  you  was  goin'  to  leave?  " 

'*  On  Saturday,  I  said,"  she  trembled. 

**  That  means,  I  s'pose,  you  want  another  bob 
or  so  a  week?  " 

"  Nothing  of  the  kind  1  "  She  was  taking  an 
indignant  step,  but  Mr.  Casswade's  hand  waved 
a  warning. 


2o8  LOW    SOCIETY 

*'  That's  enough,"  he  said.  **  You  can  have  it 
from  Saturday  ;  but  don't  rile  me  again  with  any 
o'  these  fits  and  fads,  because  I'm  not  made  to 
stand  'em,  and  I  won't.     Had  your  tea?  " 

**  I  couldn't  touch  it,"  was  the  faint  response. 

"  Well,  put  a  drop  o'  gin  in  it  ;  then  you  will. 
That's  all  right."     And  the  door  softly  closed. 


CHAPTER    XVIII 

About  an  hour  later,  Mr.  Casswade  drew  on  his 
boots  again  and  stepped  from  the  house.  The 
wind  had  dropped  considerably  with  "  sunset  "  ; 
but  it  merited  several  hearty  curses  before  Mr. 
Casswade 's  measured  roll  had  brought  him  out 
again  to  the  New  Eden  estate.  The  workmen  had 
gone  long  since,  of  course  ;  save  for  the  dull,  irre- 
gular banging  of  a  hammer  in  one  of  the  build- 
ings, a  sort  of  negative  silence  reigned  every- 
where. A  crimson  blind  at  some  lit  window  here 
and  there  lent  quite  a  warm,  inspiring  touch. 
Essex  by  London  is  so  universally  sad  and  grey. 

Casswade 's  portable  '*  office  "  had  been  shifted 
from  Mandalay  Gardens  to  the  upper  end  of  the 
new  street  in  process  of  formation  in  the  rear. 
The  houses  in  actual  course  of  erection  were  at 
the  lower  end.  Halfway  along,  picking  his  way 
between  various  mounds  of  earth  and  material, 
Casswade  halted,  as  if  to  take  stock  before  going 
farther.  Then  he  went  on,  carefully  and  keenly. 
His  objective  was  Number  One,  through  one  of 
the  finished  windows  of  which  a  flickering  light 
gave  a  clue  to  the  hammering  sound  ;  but  he 
paused  a  while  in  turn  before  each  gaping  doorway 
in  the  rear,  sensing  the  silence  within  the  shell, 
and  undoubtedly  mistrustful  of  it .  Once,  stepping 
backward  in  his  suspicious  absorption,  he  all  but 
walked  over  the  brink  of  a  deep  sandpit  dug  in 

L.s.  p 


2IO  LOW    SOCIETY 

one  of  the  gardens — a  pit  destined  to  be  refilled 
with  rubbish  and  then  carefully  re -turfed  as  virgin 
soil.  And  so  he  made  his  way  along  the  block. 
It  would  have  been  comprehensible  in  an  imagina- 
tive man  to  stand  and  reflect  that  his  own  money 
and  brains  had  transformed  this  naked  breadth  of 
field-land  into  a  rapidly-filling  human  hive.  But 
Casswade  had  admittedly  no  trace  of  imagination 
in  him. 

Bang  !  Bang-bangetty-bang-^fl/z^  !  went  the 
hammer  of  the  busy  man  in  Number  One  —  Street 
as  yet  unnamed. 

"  Hullo,"  said  Casswade,  his  head  suddenly 
jutting  into  the  halo  of  light  above  the  landing 
balustrade. 

"  Hullo,"  said  Josh,  simply  sitting  back.  Either 
he  had  very  sound  nerves,  or  no  nerves  at  all. 

"  Still  at  it,  then?  "  Casswade  leaned  over  a 
trestle  and  watched.  As  many  people  knew,  with- 
out knowing  of  a  reason,  there  existed  between 
Casswade  and  his  nonchalant  foreman  a  tacit 
understanding — almost  a  camaraderie — which  had 
never  once  appeared  to  waver.  One  of  the  most 
potent  proofs  was  that  Casswade  never  questioned 
the  personal  weekly  bill  for  overtime -payment  put 
in  by  his  foreman.     "How's  all  the  kids?" 

"  Thought  I'd  get  this  flooring  done,  in  case," 
Josh  replied,  ignoring  the  more  delicate  query. 

He  lit  his  pipe  and  went  on,  driving  in  the 
square  nails  with  a  monotonous  precision  that 
Casswade  tired  of  watching.  He  paid  for  it — 
that  was  enough. 

"  Well,  I  shall  give  'em  a  Chris 'mas  box  all 
round,    as    usual,"    Casswade    remarked,    rousing. 


LOW    SOCIETY  211 

"  But  all  the  same,  you  have  been  a  damned  fool 
to  yourself,  ain't  you?     Any  more  complaints?  " 

**  Only  what  I  told  you  of  this  afternoon,"  said 
Josh,  apparently  without  resentment.    - 

**  Oh,  ay,  I  was  up  here  before  tea,  wasn't  I? 
Blowed  if  I  hadn't  forgotten.  You  want  nine 
heads  nowadays."  He  took  something  from  his 
pocket  and  tossed  it  carelessly  across.  *'  You're 
a  bloomin'  thought -reader  :  what  d'you  make  o' 
that?" 

Josh  leaned  back,  read  the  letter  in  his  brief 
fashion,  and  seemed  disinclined  to  make  anything 
sensational  of  it. 

**  He's  goin'  to  pay  you  back  in  a  lump  the 
twenty -five  quid  you  lent  him." 

"Jest  what  struck  me."  Casswade  slapped 
his  thigh,  and  laughed  out.  "  I  never  lent  it  him 
really  ;  I  arranged  with  the  Loan  Society  to  let  it 
stand  over  to  me  at  three -and -a -half  per  cent. — 
that's  the  funny  part  of  it.  Still,  I  can  do  with 
a  bit  o'  cash — never  more  so.  That's  what  it  is, 
then  :  this  pal  of  his  has  done  him  a  turn,  and 
very  likely  *11  take  a  house  to  be  near  him  and  the 
money.  I'm  on  him.  Rummy  thing,  you  know," 
he  went  on,  lowering  his  husky  voice  confiden- 
tially. "  We  had  our  own  thoughts  all  along  about 
this  'ere  Hungerford  feller,  didn't  we  ?  He  ain't 
exactly  what  he  makes  out,  I  mean,  and  never 
was.  Walks  like  a  real  Duke,  and  talks  a  sight 
better  than  any  I've  seen.  And  I  shouldn't  be  a 
bit  surprised  if  there's  money  behind  somewhere, 
only  it's  tied  up  somehow.  That's  what's  struck 
me,  at  any  rate,  all  along.  Why,  you  never  know 
if  a  man  like  that,  who'd  give  a  bloomin'  step- 

P  2 


2  12  LOW    SOCIETY 

cleaner  a  quid  to  go  and  get  change,  mightn't  be 
tryin*  one  o'  the  houses  before  he  bought  up  a 
dozen  as  an  investment  on  his  own.  That  ring 
he  wore  was  worth  a  hundred  half-crowns.  And 
he  listened  hard  enough,  when  I  bunged  it  into 
him  about  bricks  and  mortar  for  money." 

"  You  never  know,"  mused  Josh,  who  had  in- 
vested in  children  himself,  and  could  not  look  for 
any  dividends  for  years  to  come. 

"  Why  " — Casswade  grew  warm  over  it — *'  ask 
yourself.  Here's  a  man  done  not  a  stroke  o*  work 
for  months " 

"  I  dunno,"  put  in  Josh,  one  eye  shut.  '*  The 
woman  at  Number  Three  told  my  missis  he  goes 
out  every  morning  now  at  twenty  to  nine,  and 
comes  home  after  dusk." 

"  That  woman?  "  said  Casswade,  with  derision. 
"  She'd  say  any  thin'.  Ain't  that  the  one  that  goes 
all  round  to  look  at  the  other  wimmen's  curtains, 
and  calls  her  kids  '  Sybil,'  and  '  Phyllis,'  and 
'  Marmalade,'  or  somethin'  o'  the  sort?  " 

*'  She  borrowed  a  new-laid  egg  and  some 
paraffin  off  my  missis,  and  ain't  said  anything 
about  it,"  Josh  admitted  absently.  He  removed 
a  piece  of  bruised  skin  from  his  thumb,  and 
handed  back  Hungerford's  letter.  "  That's  why 
he's  asked  you,  I  reckon.  He's  that  sort.  A 
toff's  notions,  like — does  his  business  in  a  draw- 
ing-room over  a  cigar." 

"  All  very  well,"  Casswade  ruminated.  **  But 
I  ain't  a  toff,  if  I  look  one.  If  he'd  only  said, 
*  Come  round  to  tea,'  I  might  have  had  a  handle 
to  lay  hold  of  ;  but  I  dunno  whether  to  answer 
or  not.     Y'see,  I  left  myself  awk'ard,  lettin'  him 


LOW    SOCIETY  213 

think  I  was  a  married  man.  Did  I  tell  you? — 
he  called  round  one  night  last  week  when  I  was 
out.  Blowed  if  she  didn't  keep  it  up  on  her  own, 
and  let  him  call  her  '  Mrs.  Casswade  '  !  " 

**  Well — take  her,"  Josh  said,  briefly,  looking  at 
his  hammer-head. 

**  Her  !  "  He  stared  ;  although  the  same 
thought  had,  of  course,  been  made  to  flit  once 
through  his  own  mind  by  association  of  ideas. 

"  What's  the  odds? — you'll  have  no  more  to  do 
with  any  of  'em  when  this  block's  finished.  Just 
for  the  look  o'  the  thing — if  you  reckon  there's 
any  bis'ness  in  it." 

"You  would?" 

**  I  shouldn't  make  no  bones  myself.  Just  tell 
her  beforehand  to  keep  to  '  good -evening,'  and 
so  on.     Nothing  in  it." 

He  went  on  with  his  banging.  Casswade  re- 
mained staring  uncertainly.  "  On'y  for  an  hour 
or  so,  ain't  it?"  the  latter  muttered  more  than 
once.     **  There  might  be  somethin'  in  it." 

A  phrenologist  could  have  told  him  truthfully 
that  he  had  no  more  finesse  than  he  had  sense  of 
humour.  He  could  more  than  hold  his  own  in  any 
crowded  public -house  bar,  but  he  could  not  con- 
template without  vague  uneasiness  making  a  social 
third  or  fourth  in  Hungerford's  parlour  unless 
there  was  a  familiar  foil  of  some  sort  present.  It 
was  a  disinclination  that  arose  naturally  from  his 
misogynic  mode  of  life. 

"  I'd  take  a  dozen  bloomin'  wives,  if  I  thought 
there  was  anythin'  comin'  of  it,"  he  said,  with  an 
attempt  at  heroic  indifference.  "  I  might  touch 
on  it,  and  see  how  she  behaves.     She'd  have  to 


2  14  LOW    SOCIETY 

do  it,  if  I  told  her,  of  course.  I  ain't  goin'  to 
offend  'em  and  let  bis'ness  slip  over  any  trifle  like 
that.  What's  up  with  him?*'  He  jerked  his 
thumb  to  indicate  the  unfinished  houses  beyond. 
**  I  couldn't  see  anythin'  of  him  anywhere.  Don't 
believe  he's  doin'  his  bit  lately." 

'*Yes,   he   is/'  Josh   said.      ''He's "      He 

paused  to  strike  another  match.  It  annoyed  Cass- 
wade. 

**  Why  don't  you  put  some  'bacca  in  it,  and  get 
a  proper  draw?  Don't  be  so  bloomin'  mean. 
"  Here  I  "  He  flung  down  his  own  pouch. 
"Well?" 

Josh   got   up  and   looked   over   the   balustrade 
**  He's  here  somewhere.     He  come  up  this  stair 
on  tiptoe  twice  since  the  men  went,  and  went  back 
when  he  saw  me  here." 

**  Oh  I  "  Casswade  peered  into  the  shadowy 
recesses  around  somewhat  uncomfortably.  **  Well, 
it  pays  ;  but  I'm  gettin'  a  bit  fed-up  with  these 
creepy  ways  of  his,  and  I  don't  mind  sayin'  it." 

**  You'll  get  more  so,"  said  Josh,  looking  up  a 
little  abruptly. 

"Why?" 

**  Why,  you've  let  him  carry  it  too  far.  You 
never  show  up  when  he's  about.  He  knows  me 
and  all  the  men,  but  I  dunno  what  he  thinks  you 
dire,  or  whether — whether  he's  got  any  memory 
left  over.     He  might  have." 

**  You're  a  cheerin'  cuss,  you  are,"  Casswade 's 
sunken  voice  came  after  a  pause.  **  What  d'you 
mean  to  say?  Could  I  help  it  if  he  went  to 
smash  ?  I  on'y  helped  one  or  two  people  to  get 
what  he  owed  'em  before  it  busted."     He  straight- 


LOW    SOCIETY  215 

ened  up,  as  Josh  made  no  audible  answer.  "I'm 
goin'  to  get  rid  of  him,"  he  said,  with  sudden 
decision. 

'*  You'll  have  a  job."  Josh  looked  steadily  at 
the  wall.  **  He's  got  a  lot  of  his  own  old  con- 
tract-forms in  his  pocket,  I'm  told.  Looks  as  if 
he's  only  waitin'  for  the  wallpapers  to  go  up  here. 
You've  kept  too  much  out  of  his  way  ;  there's  no 
doubt  o'  that." 

Another  pause.  Both  seemed  to  be  listening 
for  the  soft  tread  of  a  dumb,  daft  man  in  the 
littered  solitude  out  there.  Then — "  Where  is 
he?"  Casswade  demanded,  with  a  quick  stride 
toward  the  stair. 

It  looked  like  Dutch  courage,  long  deferred. 
Still,  Casswade,  when  worked  up,  was  an  awkward 
handful.  Josh  followed  him,  keeping  close 
behind.     Down  they  went. 

"  There  he  is,"  he  whispered  at  length,  holding 
Casswade 's  arm. 

"  Where  ?  "  Casswade 's  puffy  face  looked  a 
little  pallid. 

"  There.  Fourth  house  down — standin'  still  just 
inside  the  kitchen.  He's  lookin'  straight  over  at 
us    ...    .   Your  eyes  ain't  goin',  are  they?" 

"  Fetch  a  candle,  or  a  lamp,  or  somethin',*^ 
Casswade  said,  after  a  moment.  "  I  thought  it  'ud 
come  to  this  sooner  or  later,  I  don't  mind  tellin* 
you." 

The  candle  was  brought.  Casswade  carefully 
led  the  way  round  to  the  front  of  the  houses. 
They  entered  the  fourth  together,  the  candle  flar- 
ing, their  feet  ringing  hollowly,  their  voices  sound- 
ing very  loud  in  the  emptiness. 


2i6  LOW    SOCIETY 

"  He's  gone,"  Josh  said,  in  an  undertone.  They 
had  come  out  at  the  rear.  "  He's  gone  .... 
No,  he  ain't."  He  clutched  the  other's  arm  again. 
**  Don't  do  nothin'.     Just  loolc  up." 

Casswade  looked  up.  From  out  the  darkness 
enveloping  the  bare  brick  landing  overhead,  faintly 
haloed  in  their  candlelight,  a  face  looked  back  at 
him.  It  was  pale,  and  tufted  all  round  with  black 
hair  resembling  at  that  distance  a  strip  of  plush 
around  plaster  features.  Unlike  his  own,  the  eyes 
in  it  had  no  idea  of  wavering  consciously  ;  yet 
there  was  nothing  alarming  in  their  steady  fixity 
— only  calm,  challenging  curiosity.  It  might  have 
been  thought  that,  could  he  speak,  he  would  have 
said  :  **  If  you  really  wish  to  inspect  with  a  view 
to  purchase,  gentlemen,  you  cannot  do  better  !  " 

Then,  quite  calmly  and  naturally,  and  with  his 
arms  linked  behind  him — as  well  as  they  might 
judge  in  that  light — he  had  turned  and  was  coming 
down  the  stair.  Till  he  got  halfway,  Casswade 
stood  firm.  Then,  as  he  paused  and  appeared  to 
be  watching  for  any  hint  on  their  part  of  felonious 
design  against  the  property,  Casswade 's  nerve  gave 
way  in  curious  fashion. 

He  turned  unsteadily  for  the  front  exit.  Josh, 
taken  aback  for  the  instant  and  then  following, 
was  genuinely  surprised  to  see  him  striding  away 
in  the  direction  of  the  main  road  and  the  lights  and 
electric  cars. 

**  That  means  three  drinks  for  a  start,"  Josh 
conjectured,  looking  after  him.  "  He'd  better 
have  kept  off  it,  as  I  told  him  ....  He'd  better 
have  had  nineteen  children,  and  no  money." 


CHAPTER    XIX 

"  There  !  "  said  Hungerford*s  Ella  to  herself, 
with  a  little  sigh  of  secret  satisfaction. 

It  was  about  half -past  six  o'clock,  that  next 
evening  ;  Hungerford's  key  might  click  in  the  lock 
at  any  moment  now.  He  might  be  wearied — he 
frequently  was  a  little  more  exhausted  than  he  felt 
able  to  explain  ;  but  he  always  spared  a  minute  to 
look  around  and  appreciate  her  handiwork  before 
sitting  down  to  his  meal.  Ella  was  one  of  the 
women  to  whom  appreciation  means  so  much  more 
than  they  can  ever  tell  ;  and  this  was  the  hour  for 
which  every  day  she  lived. 

She  had  given  a  last  brightening  touch  to  the 
steel -work  upon  the  grate,  and  flicked  away  the 
only  visible  speck  of  ash.  She  took  a  tremendous 
pride  in  this  kitchen,  and  only  mourned  because 
the  oven  seemed  incapable  of  proving  her  baking 
abilities,  and  because  the  fire  declined  to  "  draw  " 
unless  the  wind  was  in  one  particular  direction — 
small  eccentricities  which,  Josh  had  thought  pro- 
bable, must  right  themselves  in  the  course  of  time. 
The  reason  why  the  woodwork  throughout  the 
house  had  warped  and  cracked  so  strangely,  he 
could  only  surmise,  was  due  to  the  fact  that  in  a 
fit  of  inadvertency  Casswade  had  ordered  **  new  " 
timber  instead  of  the  usual  seasoned  variety — 
which  cost  a  little  more  money.     The  mere  fact 


2i8  LOW    SOCIETY 

that  the  house  had  stood  firm  for  so  long,  he 
pointed  out,  was  certain  proof  that  it  did  not 
intend  to  cave  in  prematurely. 

The  table  was  daintily  set.  Ella,  her  soft  brown 
hair  smoothed  back  and  gathered  into  a  Grecian 
knot,  her  small  figure  most  matronly  in  the  long, 
flowing  apron  which  completely  enveloped  it,  stood 
with  clasped  hands  and  waited.  This  was  the 
moment  when  she  ran  mentally  through  the  whole 
series  of  possible  disasters  any  one  of  which  might 
overtake  Hungerford  on  his  homeward  way  from 
the  City.  To  pray  mutely  and  regularly  that  they 
might  be  averted  seemed  as  childish  as  unavail- 
ing ;  but  the  fact  remained  that  she  did  so  pray, 
and  expected  to  be  answered.  There  were  the 
motor-'buses,  which  she  contemplated  from  afar 
ofi"  as  resistless  Juggernauts  invented  to  create  va- 
cancies in  every  walk  of  life  ;  the  skimming, 
skidding  cabs,  which  were  always  **  sorry  "  after 
the  accident  ;  the  blindly-thundering  train  which 
might  plunge  off  the  metals  at  any  moment  ;  the 
flying  automobiles,  which  admittedly  allowed  no 
law,  human  or  Divine,  to  stand  in  the  way  of 
speed -achievement  and  class  prejudice  ;  and 

Jim's  key  clicked.  She  ran,  checking  a  happy 
little  cry,  and  put  her  arms  quietly  around  him, 
and  looked  up  to  search  his  face  in  the  way  known 
to  some  dear,  tender  women.  He  had  come  out 
of  the  mist  into  gas-light  ;  perhaps  it  was  that — , 
with  the  contrasting  darkness  of  his  hair  and 
moustache — which  made  him  appear  a  little  more 
sallow  and  drawn  of  jaw  than  yesterday. 

"  You  haven't  been  coughing  more  to-day. 
Boy?"   she  asked.     She  had  taken   his   hat   and 


LOW    SOCIETY  219 

wiped  his  forehead.  "You  are  sure? — quite 
sure?" 

**  No,  no,  no — nothing  to  speak  of  to-day  !  " 

He  laughed,  pressed  her  to  him,  and  in  a  minute 
more  was  at  rest  at  the  dainty  table,  in  his  own 
home,  the  world  shut  out.  Singing  softly  to  her- 
self in  sheer  suppressed  joy,  his  Ella  tripped  about, 
and  refrained  from  kissing  him  or  asking  a  single 
question  until  his  plate  and  cup  were  pushed  back. 
Then,  without  a  word,  she  lifted  down  his  briar 
pipe  and  the  ash-tray.  This  always  surprised  and 
pleased  him. 

"  My  thoughtful  little  woman,"  he  said,  his 
hand  resting  upon  hers  a  moment.  The  simple 
truth  was,  he  was  as  happy  as  a  man  could  be,  and 
owed  it  all  to  her — and  knew  it. 

She  propped  her  arms  upon  the  table,  her  face 
in  her  hands,  and  watched  him  as  he  puffed  con- 
tentedly. It  was  as  if  there  were  something  new 
to  be  discovered  in  him  every  day,  after  his  long 
absence  in  the  City.  But  she  was  preparing  to 
spring  upon  him  one  of  her  small  feminine  sur- 
prises. 

"  You'll  leave  off  that  suit  to-morrow,  and  wear 
the  dark  check  one  for  a  fortnight,  and  then  the 
navy-blue,"  she  said. 

"Why?  It's  new — — "  he  began,  taking  the 
pipe  from  his  mouth  to  stare.  She  simply  pushed 
it  back,  to  silence  him. 

"  Because  you  are  to.  Because  wife  knows  best. 
And  because  I've  put  new  flannel -linings  into  both 
of  them.  That's  enough.  Was  it  hard  in  the 
office  to-day.  Boy?" 

"  Well,  no  ;  I'm  gradually  getting  used  to  it." 


220  LOW    SOCIETY 

He  always  had  this  answer  ready.  "  We  won*t 
talk  about  that  now.** 

"  We  will,*'  she  said.  *'  Because  if  it  is  not 
what  you  expected — or  if  the  position  is  ever  un- 
bearable— I  mean  you  to  leave  it,  and  we'll  think 
of  something  else.  Don't  think  I  don't  know  I 
What  have  you  been  doing  to-day?  " 

"  Simply  writing,"  he  laughed  ;  *'  and  casting 
up  accounts." 

**  Do  they — do  they  ever  refer  to  the  past,  or 
wonder  why  you  are  there,  or  try  to  speak  to  you 
when  you  leave  the  office?  "  she  ran  on,  breath- 
lessly. 

**  Well,  no,"  he  said  again,  one  hand  moving 
over  his  eyes.  "  Perhaps  they  think  I  am  mad, 
because  I  don't  care  to  talk.  As  for  Mr.  Vaughan 
himself,  the  Chief — he  knows.  I  had  to  tell  him — 
of  course.  But  he's  a  gentleman.  Don't  worry, 
dear  ;  whether  I  like  it  or  not,  I  have  to  go 
through  with  it  now  ;  and  I'm  going  to." 

In  the  pause,  as  Ella  gazed  intently  into  space, 
there  carried  a  vague  sound  into  the  warm  still- 
ness of  the  kitchen.     Ella  looked  at  Hungerford. 

**  Not  a  knock?  "  her  lips  moved,  questioningly. 

**  Scarcely,"  he  said.  It  was  more  as  if  a  half- 
filled  sack  had  been  bumped  against  the  street 
door  and  left  there.     And  presently  it  came  again. 

Hungerford  got  up,  walked  down  the  passage, 
and  opened  the  door.  He  stood  so  long,  appa- 
rently doing  nothing,  that  Ella  thought  it  time  to 
call  to  him. 

"  I  think  you'd  better  come,"  he  turned  his 
head  to  answer. 

Drawn  back  in  the  misty,  shadowy  niche  of  the 


LOW    SOCIETY  221 

hall  porch  Ella  made  out  a  woman's  figure.  Her 
face,  that  looked  very  swollen  and  colourless,  was 
stubbornly  averted,  and  she  held  a  handkerchief  to 
her  lips.  Hungerford  was  still  plucking  gently 
at  her  arm,  but  she  resisted,  and  appeared  merely 
wistful  to  retain  that  inconclusive  position. 

"  Why,  it's  Miss  Shadd— Selina  !  "  Ella  said, 
in  a  sort  of  awe.  It  was.  At  the  sound  of  her 
name,  she  gave  a  long,  wailing  sob  sufficient  in 
its  intensity  to  indicate  trouble.  But  still  she 
resisted. 

"  Oh,  don't  !  "  Ella  whispered.  **  Poor  child, 
whatever  can  it  be?  Where's  —  where's  Mr. 
Baversham?  " 

"  Dead  !  "  The  announcement  came  with  a 
truly  unnerving  vehemence.  Her  arms  out,  she 
was  turning  as  if  to  grope  away  after  delivering 
her  information.  '*  He's  gone — he's  dead.  Let 
me  go — let  me  go  to  him — that's  all  I  came  to 
ask  1  " 

The  neighbours  in  Mandalay  Gardens  were  par- 
ticularly quick  in  detecting  anything  out  of  the 
common,  and  equally  slow  in  forgetting  it  after- 
wards. Acting  on  impulse,  Hungerford  slipped 
both  arms  around  the  retreating  figure,  and  lifted 
it  bodily  into  privacy,  while  Ella  stood  ready  to 
close  the  door.  It  was  no  light  task,  and  brought 
beads  of  perspiration  out  on  his  forehead  ;  but  it 
was  done.  Selina  collapsed  on  the  bottom  stair, 
and  bit  her  handkerchief  convulsively  and  sent 
out  a  prolonged  desolate  wail  by  turns.  This, 
her  second  surprise  visit  to  the  Hungerfords  at 
Number  Nine,  seemed  charged  with  even  more 
tragic  uncertainty  than  the  first. 


222  LOW    SOCIETY 

By  degrees  the  disturbing  noises  died  down. 
She  bumped  back  inertly  against  the  wall,  her 
swollen  white  face  looking  out  as  at  something 
that  assuredly  no  one  else  could  expect  to  see. 
Hungerford  deemed  it  safe  to  say  something. 

**  Come  !  "  he  said,  with  concern  ;  **  not  that 
look  !  Did  your  parents  know  you  were  coming 
here  to  us?  ** 

**  No,"  she  moaned.  **  I  want  you  to  tell  them, 
after  my  body's  found." 

*'  Oh,  nonsense  1  "  He  waited,  while  Ella  ran 
precipitately  upstairs  for  her  eau  de  Cologne  and 
anything  else  reviving  she  could  find.  Selina 
gave  gasping  little  sobs,  as  the  scent  was  showered 
thickly  upon  her  upturned  face.  "  Now,"  he  ven- 
tured ;  "  you're  much  better.  Only  keep  calm, 
and  we'll  see  what  can  be  done  about  it." 

"  Nothing,"  she  asserted,  feebly,  *'  except  to 
find  him  and  bury  him.  I  thought  of  you,  and  I 
came.     You  can  do  nothing  more." 

Hungerford  looked  at  his  Ella.  If  true,  it  was  a 
trying  commission  to  be  brought  thus  abruptly 
to  their  door.  On  the  surface,  it  seemed  far  more 
feasible  that  Baversham's  young  woman,  as  Ella 
had  feared,  was  mentally  deficient. 

He  stooped.  "  Well,  you  see,  you  put  us  in 
rather  an  awkward  position.  We  can't  tell  what 
you  mean,  or  what  has  happened.  If  you'll 
only " 

They  held  their  breath  as  Selina,  with  many  a 
body-shaking  sob,  slowly  extracted  from  some- 
where in  her  breastfolds  something  that  had  once 
been  an  envelope.  Inside,  just  legible  still  to  the 
naked  eye,  were  the  momentous  lines  Baversham 


LOW    SOCIETY  223 

had  penned  in  eternal  farewell.  Hungerford  and 
his  Ella  scanned  them  in  silence  so  deep  that  the 
heart's  beat  was  audible. 

"When  was  this  written?"  Hungerford  whis- 
pered.    And  the  dull,  thrilling  whisper  answered. 

**  Thursday.  The  night  he  died — a  week 
ago." 

*'  That's  very  strange,  then,"  he  said,  staring, 
with  a  sudden  recollection.  "  I  saw  him  on  Satur- 
day ;  and  he  never  said  a  syllable  about — about 
dying." 

Selina  clutched  at  him  and  slowly  lifted  herself. 
"  You  saw  him?  "  she  rattled.     "  Alive?  " 

'*  Certainly  I — as  much  alive  as  you  and  I  are. 
Don't  you  hear? — I  spoke  with  him.  Why,  when 
I  think  of  it,  he  looked  as  ordinary  and  cheerful 
as  possible." 

**  You're  not "   Selina  had  begun  to  shake 

all  over  afresh — *'  You're  not  saying  this  to — 
to  get  rid  of  me?  Think  I — think  if  it  was  Mrs. 
Hungerford,  and  she  suddenly  heard  you  were 
lying  at  the  bottom  of  the  river." 

*'  Oh,  don't  I  "  Ella  cried,  beginning  to  sob  in 
turn.  **  Oh,  don't  1  "  Hungerford  thought  it 
time  to  arrive  at  something  definite, 

'*  Look  here,"  he  said,  **  I  believe  you'll  find  you 
are  worrying  over  nothing  at  all.  What  is  the 
time? — twenty  past  seven.  Wait  here,  and  I'll 
run  out  and  telephone  to  him — or  to  the  nearest 
call -office.     Just  give  me  his  address,  quick " 

"  I  can't,"  Selina  wailed,  with  access  of  misery. 
**  He's  dead.  I  feel  it — I  knew  his  temper.  I 
wrote  to  him  there,  and  it  came  back,  marked 
'  Gone  away.'     Here  it  is  1     I  shall  be  gone  too. 


224  LOW    SOCIETY 

by  morning  ;  you'll  never  see  me  again,  either  of 
you.     He's  killed  me,  and  you'll  know  it." 

To  combat  the  impression  was  evidently  beyond 
one  man's  power.  Hungerford  looked  at  the 
address  on  the  returned  letter — then  at  Ella — and 
took  his  decision  in  both  hands.  He  drew  on  hat 
and  overcoat  again,  whispered  to  his  wife,  and 
grasped  Selina's  arm  gently  but  firmly. 

"  You  come  with  me,"  he  said.  "  We'll  find 
out  something  better  than  this,  I  hope.  And  you 
can  tell  me  all  about  it  as  we  go  along." 

Beyond  an  incoherent  choke  at  intervals,  how- 
ever, as  she  stumbled  along  beside  him,  clutching 
his  arm,  nothing  had  come  from  Selina's  lips  when 
at  length  they  paused,  after  nearly  an  hour's 
strange  tramp.  And  secretly  he  had  become 
rather  glad  of  her  silence.  There  were  signs  that 
an  attempt  on  her  part  to  break  it  might  have 
induced  another  collapse  and  made  him  the  most 
uncomfortable,  most  talked -of  man  in  Barking 
Town  that  night. 

"  There  !  "  she  gasped,  pointing  to  a  row  of  lit 
windows  that  suddenly  loomed  in  the  obscurity  of 
the  Beckton  road.  "  There  !  It's  the  first  house. 
Oh,  what  shall  Ido?  " 

"Why,"  Hungerford  said,  in  quiet  desperation, 
**  I  think  you'd  better  do  just  what  I  advise.  Now, 
do  you  know  which  rooms  were  his  ?  " 

"  The  —  the  two  at  the  back  ;  the  top  and 
bottom.     Oh,  if  you  leave  me !  " 

"  And  there's  a  light  in  the  lower  one,  I'm 
almost  sure.  Yes,  there  is  I  Now,  Miss  Shadd, 
I'm  doing  all  I  can  for  you  ;  in  return,  you  need 
only   keep    quiet    a    few    minutes.      Follow    close 


LOW    SOCIETY  225 

behind  me,  and  say  not  a  word  of  any  kind  till  I 
tell  you.     Can  you  promise  just  that?  " 

Selina  was  understood  to  whisper  that  she  could. 
They  walked  quietly  on,  and  halted  in  front  of  the 
house.  It  being  the  first  in  the  row,  Hungerford 
looked  for  a  side -path  from  the  gateway  round  to 
the  rear  ;  and  found  it.  This  was  helpful,  because 
he  had  decided  that  a  knock  at  the  front  door 
that  night  would  draw  a  blank.  He  pressed  Se- 
Iina*s  arm  in  warning.  Burglariously  careful,  they 
made  a  way  along  the  side -path  and  drew  up  close 
to  the  lit  window.  Selina's  throat  threatened 
another  perilous  series  of  sounds. 

"  Be  still  I  "  Hungerford  breathed.  All  the 
same,  it  was  an  eerie  moment.  Facing  that  pro- 
blematical drawn  blind,  they  stood  on  the  verge 
of  the  unknown.  He  knew  that  his  own  heart  was 
going  double  time. 

He  stepped  suddenly  up  and  drummed  against 
the  glass. 

There  was  an  uncertain  stumble  beyond  ;  then 
silence.  He  drummed  quickly  again,  and  bent 
close,  saying  as  distinctly  as  he  dared  :  "  It's  all 
right — it  is  only  II*' 

One  more  nameless  stare  of  suspense,  and  then 
— "  Stand  back  behind  me  !  "  Hungerford  sig- 
nalled to  Selina.  The  edge  of  the  blind  had  been 
curled  back  about  an  eighth  of  an  inch.  Half  an 
eye  was  peering  out .  Was  it  familiar  ? — was  it  ? 
How  Selina  bore  herself,  would  never  be  ascer- 
tained. Bit  by  bit  the  blind  curled  back,  and 
then—"  Not  a  sound  !  Don't  move  I  "  Hungerford 
whispered  to  her.  He  could  have  sent  up  a  shout, 
himself.     As  he  had  more  than  half  expected,  the 

L.S.  Q 


226  LOW    SOCIETY 

face  looking  out  at  him  was  that  of  the  living 
Baversham . 

"  Who  is  it  ?  "  Baversham  asked,  a  little  thickly. 
"What,  Mr.  Hungerford— you  ?  *' 

"  Ay  I  Just  a  word  with  you.  I  have  bad  news 
of— her:* 

The  blind  dropped  very  abruptly.  There  was 
another  stumbling  sound,  and  then  the  bolts  of  a 
door  were  being  drawn.  It  opened.  Baversham, 
in  his  shirtsleeves,  and  with  dishevelled  hair, 
appeared . 

**  You  don't  say — you  don't  tell  me  she's " 

The  husky  query  ended  short.  He  retreated 
backwards  into  his  room.  Before  he  could  realise, 
the  door  had  closed  again,  and  Hungerford  stood 
inside,  pale  but  smiling,  and  grasping  the  figure 
of  the  limp  woman  who  had  given  one  look  and 
then  incontinently  swooned. 

**  I  won't  have  her,"  George  gasped,  staccato, 
standing  rooted.  "  You've  done  no  good  ;  I 
won't  have  her  here,  at  any  price." 

**  I'm  afraid  you'll  have  to — for  a  few  minutes," 
the  other  man  said.  "  Come,  don't  be  a  fool,  old 
chap — bring  a  chair  or  something — she's  heavy. 
Afterwards,  you  can  do  what  you  like." 

Baversham  pushed  forward  his  arm-chair,  and 
then  retreated  determinedly  again  to  the  farthest 
wall. 

**  Understand,"  he  began  again,  as  Hungerford 
started  to  fan  the  piteous  upturned  face,  **  under- 
stand, before  she  comes  to,  I've  done  with  her — 
done  with  the  whole  fam'ly."  And  Hungerford 
paused  in  his  work. 

"  Then,"  he  whispered  across,  "  find  some  dif- 


LOW    SOCIETY  227 

ferent  way  of  telling  her  so.  You  didn't  think, 
but  there  might  have  been  an  inquest  after  all. 
If  I  were  you,  I'd  lock  that  inner  door,  brush  my 
hair,  and  face  it  like  a  man." 

"  You  dunno  her,**  George  muttered,  at  bay. 
"  She  comes  of  artful  stock.  You  dunno  half.  I'll 
bet  she's  listenin'  to  every  word.     Look  at  her  !  " 

And  it  was  coincidental  that,  at  that  instant, 
Selina's  heavy  eyes  unclosed  a  little.  **  George,** 
she  whimpered.  **  George  !  You're  going  to 
speak  !  " 

**  Not  me,"  George  said,  with  callous  decision, 
folding  his  arms.  **  I  ain't  particular,  but  I  do 
draw  the  line  somewhere.  You  can  fool  Mr.  Hun- 
gerford  a  treat,  but  you  can't  fool  me." 

'*  I  never  tried.  I've  loved  you  all — all  along," 
she  wailed.  '*  If  you'll  only  listen  1 — but  you 
won't  1  " 

'*  No,  I  won't.  Too  late,  my  gel.  Now,  it's 
no  use  snivellin'  or  puttin'  your  arms  out  to  me 
like  that,"  George  retorted,  pointing  to  the  in- 
evitable with  emphasis.  "  I've  done  all  the  lis- 
tenin' I'm  ever  goin'  to  do — outside  that  back 
parlour  winder  o'  yours.  If  you  don't  want  Mr. 
Hungerford  to  know  all  about  it,  you'd  best  pull 
yourself  together  and  buzz  off  home.  You  can 
stand  up  all  right — you  won't  fall  down  !  " 

Stung  to  it,  Selina  struggled  upright.  Hunger- 
ford,  a  reluctant,  amazed  onlooker,  felt  himself  in 
decidedly   a  false   and   worsening  position. 

'*  Now,  it's  like  this "  he  interposed,  pacific- 
ally. 

••  Excuse  me,  it's  like  this,"  Baversham  put  in, 
in  full  tones.     "  You're  a  gentleman  every  inch, 

Q   7' 


228  LOW    SOCIETY 

and  I'm  only  sorry  I  brought  a  woman  like  that 
into  your  house " 

"Me?"  Selina  queried,  almost  at  suffocation- 
point. 

"  You  I  I'm  pointin'  my  finger  plain  enough, 
I  believe.  I  don't  say  you  can  help  havin'  a 
greasy,  graspin'  tyke  for  a  father  ;  but  you  can 
help — there,  no,  I  ain't  goin'  to  discuss  it.  If 
you've  come  here  to  give  me  back  my  ring,  put  it 
down  on  that  table,  and  there's  an  end  of  it." 

'*  Never,"  Selina  gasped,  faintly  but  resolutely. 
**  You  can't  take  it  from  me.     Never,  George  I  " 

"  Calls  me  '  George  '  !  "  He  appealed  pathetic- 
ally to  the  audience.  "  What  would  you  say,  Mr. 
Hungerford,  if  you'd  found  out  that  your  young 
woman  only  wanted  you  for  what  you'd  got  in  the 
bank,  and  had  called  you  a  '  measly,  freckled 
outsider  '  ?  " 

**  Liar,"  choked  the  accused.  *'  What  did  you 
just  call  my  father  ?  ' ' 

*'  Hold  your  tongue — you've  got  no  case.  I 
have.  I've  got  cast-iron,  absolute  proof  that  you 
and  your  fam'ly  thought  they'd  got  me  for  a  mug. 
I've  had  my  doubts  all  along,  but  I  didn't  bring 
any  away  from  that  parlour  winder." 

**  Well,  granting  it's  all  a  very  mysterious,  in- 
volved affair,"  Hungerford  ventured  again,  **  if 
you'll  only  let  me  speak,  I  should  say  it  began 
in  a  misunderstanding — as  far  as  Miss  Shadd  is 
concerned,  at  any  rate.  If  you  leave  it  at 
that,  you  may  have  ruined  both  your  lives 
and " 

"  Mine's  already  ruined,"  Baversham  an- 
nounced, bitterly. 


LOW    SOCIETY  229 

"  And  what  of  mine?  "  implored  Selina,  not  to 
be  outdone. 

"Yours?  I  dunno  and  don't  care — *cept  that 
you  ain't  goin'  to  save  it  with  my  money  and  my 
name.     So  there  !  " 

*'  Hush  ;  try  and  think  I  "  Hungerford  started 
afresh,  his  hand  up  to  check  each  in  turn.  '*  I 
am  perfectly  sure  you  both  mean  well  ;  but  it  isn't 
likely  you  can  say  all  you  wish  to  say  before  a 
third  person.  Now,  I  suggest  that  I  walk  up  and 
down  the  road  outside  while  you  talk  things  over 
together  in  private " 

George  took  a  hasty  step  forward — Selina  took 
one  backward. 

**  You  won't,"  George  said,  very  solemnly. 
"  You'll  be  sorry  for  her,  if  you  do." 

**  I  wouldn't  be  left  with  him,"  said  Selina, 
wringing  her  hands.  '*  He's  not  in  a  fit  state  to 
talk.      Look  at  him  !  " 

George,  who  was  always  direct  in  his  method, 
had  just  bared  his  teeth  at  her,  and  grinned 
horribly. 

With  a  deep  breath,  Hungerford  looked  at  his 
watch.  That  innocent  action,  maybe,  did  more  to 
clear  the  atmosphere  than  a  string  of  appeals  :  it 
was  so  suggestive  of  the  flight  of  precious  time 
and  opportunity.  Selina  turned  to  the  wall,  leaned 
against  it,  and  burst  into  a  fit  of  different,  almost 
soundless,  weeping. 

*'  That's  real  I  Comfort  her  I  "  Hungerford 
begged,  in  a  whisper.  "  Take  no  notice  of  me. 
Dry  her  eyes,  man  !  " 

"  What,  and  let  her  think  I'm  goin'  to  do  it  for 
life  ?  You  don't  understand  what  there  is  behind 
all  this." 


230  LOW    SOCIETY 

**  Do  you  ?  "  Hungerford  put  a  gripping  hand  on 
his  shoulder.  "  Old  chap,  if  I  didn't  want  to 
help  you,  I  shouldn't  be  here.  Look  here — do 
you  care  for  her  in  the  least?  " 

"  I  did,"  George  admitted,  between  his  teeth. 
And  Hungerford  swerved  round. 

"  Miss  Shadd — Selina — do  you  really  love  him  ?  " 

"  Love  him  I  "  she  sobbed,  her  hands  hard  to- 
gether. "  He  knows  it,  as  he  stands  there — the 
cruel  1  " 

**  And  have  you  ever  said  or  done  anything  to 
turn  him  against  you  in  this  manner?  " 

"  Never  I  "  The  handkerchief  nearly  came  in 
halves.     "  Before  Heaven  !  " 

**  There  you  are — in  a  nutshell,"  said  Hunger- 
ford. **  If  you  can't  believe  a  voice  like  that,  you 
can't  believe  anything.      Come  along  I  " 

He  propelled  the  dazed,  resisting  Baversham 
across  the  room.  Selina  lifted  her  swollen 
face,  half  in  fear  ;  they  were  eye  to  eye,  scarcely 
breathing. 

**  You  beauty,"  Baversham  muttered,  huskily. 
"  You've  broke  my  heart,  you  have.  What  d'you 
think  o'  yourself,  eh?  " 

"  George,  tell  the  truth,"  she  faltered.  "  How 
many  times  have  I  put  my  arm  round  your  neck 
and  told  you  I  wouldn't  live  another  minute  with- 
out you  ?  ' ' 

"  Bravo  I  "  Hungerford  said,  astutely  shepherd- 
ing the  position.  *'  That's  cornered  him.  What 
do  you  say  to  that,   George?" 

'*  Why,  I  ask  her,  what  about  the  money,  and 
my  measly,  freckly  face  ? — her  father's  own  de- 
scription of  me,  if  I  never  move." 


LOW    SOCIETY  231 

"  But  never  mine,"  she  averred,  gathering 
courage.  "  I  can't  help  being  his  daughter. 
What's  freckles  to  me?  And  if  you  think  I  only 
wanted  you  for  your  money,  you  can  take  it  and 
throw  it  down  the  nearest  drain — or  give  it  in 
a  lump  to  Mr.  Hungerford  on  the  spot.  Can  I 
say  more?  " 

**  That  she  can't,"  Hungerford  decided,  quite 
cheerfully.  "  George,  you  can't  afford  to  lose  a 
woman  who'll  make  that  sacrifice  for  love.  Im- 
possible 1  " 

"  Does  she  mean  it? — that's  the  thing,"  queried 
George,  still  glaring,  but  obviously  softened.  And 
that  pause  left  Hungerford  his  opportunity. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  quietly.  "  I'll  stake  my 
honour  upon  that.  That's  settled  ;  I'll  wait  out- 
side." 

He  dragged  up  the  reluctant  Baversham's  arm, 
slid  it  around  Selina's  willing  waist  in  a  limp 
embrace,  and  then  turned  quickly  and  went  out, 
drawing  the  door  gently  to  behind  him. 

The  night  air,  as  it  closed  around  him,  struck 
very  chilly  ;  and  only  now  the  damp  ground  out 
here  reminded  him  that  he  had  not  waited  to 
change  his  thin  house -shoes.  Once  or  twice  he 
shivered  inertly,  and  several  times  had  hard  work 
to  keep  a  cough  within  decent  limits.  But  this 
was  only  a  detail,  lost  in  a  pardonable  tingle  of 
happiness  in  having  achieved  what  had  seemed 
the  starkly-impossible. 

To  and  fro  he  tiptoed,  anxious  to  be  away,  and 
yet  not  willing  to  curtail  by  a  moment  such  a 
vital  reconciliation.  Only  once  he  permitted  him- 
self a  furtive    glance   through   the   crack    of    the 


232  LOW    SOCIETY 

door  ajar — and  was  glad  to  look  quickly  away 
again.  It  could  not  honestly  be  said  that  Baver- 
sham's  attitude  indicated  either  complete  convic- 
tion or  uxorious  abandonment  ;  but  that  of  Selina 
chased  away  any  stray  misgivings .  She  had  both 
her  arms  around  his  neck,  and  was  gazing  into  his 
face  with  love  and  belief  unutterable.  In  point 
of  fact,  as  far  as  Hungerford  could  gauge,  scarcely 
a  dozen  words  passed  between  them  on  this  me- 
morable occasion. 

At  last — at  long  last — the  door  opened.  Selina 
emerged,  with  a  deep  sigh.  Baversham,  a  little 
way  behind,  put  out  his  hand  rather  sheepishly. 
It  was  gripped  eloquently. 

That  was  all.  They  found  themselves  moving 
back  along  the  side -path  by  which  they  had  come, 
and  so  out  into  the  homeward  road.  And,  some- 
how or  other,  it  was  not  until  the  glow  of  Barking 
Town  lights  reddened  the  air  about  them,  and 
their  ways  turned  apart — his  to  the  right,  hers  to 
the  left — that  Hungerford  felt  himself  able  to 
touch  upon  that  night's  great  victory  of  love  over 
black  doubt  and  despair. 

"  Well,"  he  asked,  as  her  hand  fell  from  his. 
*'  Do  you  feel  any  happier  than  you  did?  " 

**  Ye — es,  a  little — ever  so  much,  thank  you," 
Selina  whispered.  "  He's  going  to  think  it  over, 
and  let  me  know  in  a  week." 


CHAPTER    XX 

**  Now,  mind,"  said  Mr.  Casswade,  on  a  sepul- 
chral note  full  of  dark  finality,  "  let's  have  no 
nonsense.  He's  a  gentleman.  You  be  the  same. 
You  know  jest  what  I  mean." 

They  were  turning  the  comer  into  Mandalay 
Gardens.  (More  correctly,  they  had  just  met 
there,  as  by  accident.)  A  thousand  times,  at 
least,  in  all  sorts  of  circumstances,  Mr.  Casswade 
had  rolled  into  view  around  this  same  bend  of 
the  pavement,  but  never  with  quite  the  same 
inward  feelings  as  now.  It  was  dark  enough,  but 
he  would  have  liked  a  friendly  fog  as  well.  He 
had  paused,  as  it  were,  to  gain  time. 

Once  again  Miss  Pugh  reserved  her  reply,  re- 
sentful or  otherwise.  It  was  probable  indeed,  now 
the  moment  had  come,  that  she  on  her  side  was 
weighted  with  an  undue  sense  of  her  strictly  tem- 
porary importance.  That  this  had  no  significance 
whatever,  as  had  been  hinted  nervously  several 
times  that  afternoon,  was  beside  the  point. 

Unlike  himself,  she  had  risen  to  the  brief  occa- 
sion with  a  rigid  serenity,  even  a  touch  of 
conscious  hauteur.  Secretly  it  staggered  him,  as 
the  worst  he  had  counted  upon  was  an  inane  titter 
now  and  again.  From  the  feminine  point  of  view, 
in  short,  the  '*  for  one  night  only  "  element  had 
lent  the  position  a  tint  of  ethereal  romance  which 
had    no    reflection    whatever    in    Mr.    Casswade 's 


234  LOW    SOCIETY 

male  mind.  She  had  a  sudden,  second-hand  sense 
of  the  wifely,  and  even  the  maternal  ;  and  she 
carried  herself  as  if  she  meant  to  maintain  it  for 
all  it  was  worth.  "  If  I  feel  all  the  time  it  is 
mere  make-believe,  however  harmless,"  she  had 
flustered  him  by  remarking,  **  I  might  spoil  my 
part.     But  I  shan't." 

She  looked  markedly  cool  and  composed  ; 
whereas  he,  spite  of  several  steadying  nips  prior  to 
starting  out,  felt  hot  outwardly  and  chilly  within. 
He  resented  it.  As  he  mopped  his  forehead,  he 
took  final  furtive  stock  of  her  appearance.  It 
was  true  that  he  had  himself  donned  his  Sunday 
silk  hat  and  the  tight  frock-coat  ;  but  Miss  Pugh 
eclipsed  this.  She  had  emerged  in  a  stylish 
costume  that  he  could  not  remember  having  seen 
before,  with  gloves,  hat,  and  even  umbrella -top, 
to  match. 

'*  Needn't  have  got  yourself  up  to  that  extent  at 
all,"  he  fumed.  **  Anyone  'ud  think  we  were 
goin'  to  a  bloomin'  ball.  And  don't  laugh  ;  I 
don't  like  that  laugh." 

"  Oh,  well,"  said  Miss  Pugh,  loftily  working 
her  umbrella -tip  along  the  kerb -groove,  **  I  didn't 
intend  to  lower  you^  I  admit.  If  we  had  been  any- 
thing to  each  other,  you  would  have  wished  to 
be  proud  of  me,  I  should  imagine." 

He  was  about  to  reply.  Just  at  that  moment 
some  invisible  person  with  a  clarinet  somewhere 
at  hand  broke  out  into  "  Kathleen  Mavourneen." 
Softly,  involuntarily  no  doubt,  Miss  Pugh  sang 
to  herself  the  words  :  "  It  may  be  for  years,  and 
it  may  be  for  ever."  It  may  have  struck  him 
either  as   crafty  malice  or  as   perverted  humour. 


LOW    SOCIETY  235 

He  replaced  his  hat  abruptly.  "  Come  on  !  "  he 
ordered.  And  Miss  Pugh  came  on,  looking  beside 
him  like  a  slim,  gliding  eel  against  a  porpoise. 
With  a  refined  little  cough,  and  no  apparent  diffi- 
dence whatever,  she  followed  him  up  the  flagged 
path  at  Number  Nine.  Mr.  Casswade  pressed  the 
bell-push  and  gathered  himself  together. 

*'  If  I  don't  like  it,  mind,"  he  muttered  out  of 
the  corner  of  his  mouth,  "I'm  comin*  away." 

**  So  you  said,"  she  whispered,  the  hauteur  dis- 
tinctly uppermost.  "  You've  only  to  tell  them 
you  don't  like  it." 

Mr.  Casswade  hardly  had  time  for  a  warning 
scowl.  The  door  opened  ;  Hungerford  stood  there. 
He  was  not  exactly  in  "  social  evening  "  array,  to 
the  other's  relief  ;  as  he  had  something  white 
muffled  around  his  throat  in  place  of  a  collar. 
Mr.  Casswade  bowed  deeply,  and  nearly  burst  his 
frock-coat  ;  Miss  Pugh  becked  and  smiled  as  to 
the  manner  bom.  **  Good  gracious  !  "  Hunger - 
ford  might  have  said  to  himself.  If  so,  it  passed 
unnoticed. 

"Why,  how  are  you,  Mr.  Casswade?  Excuse 
me,  I  could  hardly  see,  coming  out  of  the  light. 
Come  in  I  (Mr.  and  Mrs.  Casswade,  Ella  !)  And 
how  are  you,  Mrs .  Casswade  ?  Pleased  to  see  you 
both.     Come  in — come  along  !  " 

•'  Yes,  here  we  are.  I  didn't  trouble  to  write, " 
Casswade  said  loudly,  mopping  his  forehead  again. 
He  was  anxious  to  get  this  apologetic  preamble 
over  and  forgotten,  as  up  till  the  very  last  hour  he 
had  see -sawed  in  his  decision.  "I'm  no  hand 
at  letter -writing.  I  thought  you'd  take  it  for 
granted — you  know  what  I  mean  I  " 


236  LOW    SOCIETY 

*'  Oh,  certainly/'  Hungerford  agreed.  There 
was  a  thickness  in  his  voice  which  called  for  some 
explanation  on  his  own  part.  *'  Very  unfortunate 
— a  feverish  cold/'  he  said,  smiling,  as  he  ushered 
them  in.  "In  fact,  I  have  been  rather  queer,  and 
obliged  to  keep  to  the  house  ;  but  I'm  pleased 
all  the  same." 

"  Nasty,  dirty  things,  them  feverish  colds,"  said 
Casswade,  with  the  fog-horn  blow  of  his  own  nose 
which  with  him  was  the  correct  prelude  to  any 
proceedings.  "  I've  known  'em  carry  a  man  off 
in  a  couple  o'  days.  Ah,  how  do,  Mrs.  Hun- 
gerford? " 

Ella  had  flitted  out,  her  face  pink,  her  eyes 
dancing.  It  was  only  natural  that  so  newly -fledged 
a  housewife  should  feel  a  little  flurried  ;  still,  Miss 
Pugh  thought  to  herself,  as  she  bowed  and  ex- 
tended her  gloved  fingers  with  the  great  gracious - 
ness  due  to  her  (temporarily)  superior  social 
status,  Mrs.  Hungerford's  idea  of  a  large  and 
flowing  apron  for  evening  wear  on  such  an  occa- 
sion was  a  little  outre.  In  fact,  in  any  other  cir- 
cumstances. Miss  Pugh,  who  was  of  the  old,  precise 
school,  would  have  felt  it  modern  affectation  of 
the  simple  life  carried  to  an  unnecessary  degree. 

In  the  next  instant.  Miss  Pugh  felt  herself 
stiffening  with  mortification  unqualified.  As  Hun- 
gerford hastily  threw  open  the  front  parlour  door 
to  find  a  place  for  the  male  visitor's  hat  and  coat, 
Ella  made  a  consonant  move  toward  the  stairs  ; 
and  dear  always  to  the  precise  feminine  mind  is 
that  preliminary  rustle  up  her  hostess's  staircase 
to  regions  privileged  to  the  sex.  Miss  Pugh, 
bowing  and  smiling,  had  one  foot  lifted  to  ascend, 


LOW    SOCIETY  237 

when  *'  her  husband's  "  voice  sounded  with  blunt 
deprecation. 

"  Here,  hi  !  you  don't  want  to  go  up  to  any  bed- 
room, I'm  sure — givin'  all  that  trouble  !  Certn'ly 
not  1  This  '11  do — in  here,  along  o'  mine.  Why, 
you'll  want  to  be  puttin*  'em  on  again  before 
you've  took  *em  off." 

It  was  pointed  and  ominous  :  she  could  scarcely 
ignore  it.  *'  Oh,  very  well,"  she  said,  just  daring 
to  add  to  Ella,  with  icy  sweetness  :  **  Mr.  Cass- 
wade  is  so  singular  in  some  ways,  you  know." 

**  Is  he?  "  breathed  Casswade,  as  she  swept  by 
him  into  the  front  room.  "  You  be  careful.  My 
word,  if  you  ain't !  " 

"  This  way  !  "  Hungerford  had  thrown  wide 
the  door  of  the  rear  parlour  in  turn.  "I'm  afraid 
it  is  not  such  a  warm  welcome  as  we  had 
intended " 

"  Tut  1  "  Casswade  cut  him  humorously  short. 
'*  That's  all  right.  I'm  warm  enough,  and  so's 
she.     Don't  you  apologise,  mister." 

A  side-glimpse  into  the  interior  of  this  room 
had  already  afforded  him  a  mixed  sense  of  relief 
and  partial  disappointment.  While  it  was  obvious 
that  "  business  "  was  to  be  strictly  the  main  con- 
sideration, as  Hungerford  had  made  no  nonsen- 
sical, ornate  preparations  for  his  company,  it  was 
also  obvious  that  the  potential  business  friend  and 
financier  had  not  yet  arrived,  and  might  weigh  in 
too  late  with  some  trumpery  tale  about  fog,  late 
trains,  or  prior  engagements. 

The  two  men  were  alone  for  the  moment,  while 
the  frou-frou  of  the  ladies*  skirts  could  be  heard 
faintly  through  the  dividing  wall. 


238  LOW    SOCIETY 

**  rm  not  sure  what  refreshment  you  usually 
take,  Mr.  Casswade/'  Hungerford  said,  looking 
round  at  his  sideboard.  *'  I  have  port  and 
lemonade,  but  I  don't  as  a  rule  keep  spirits  in 
the  house  unless *' 

**  You  don't?  "  Casswade  cut  him  short  again. 
**  Then,  that's  all  right.  I  thought  very  likely  you 
wouldn't  know,  and  brought  a  drain  in  my  pocket, 
in  case."  And  he  drew  out  a  thick,  flat  bottle, 
holding  about  a  pint  and  a  half.  "  There,  that's 
enough  for  you  and  me  and  your  friend,  too, 
to  begin  with — so  to  speak.  Shove  it  in  the 
decanter  !  " 

The  ice  was  broken,  and  he  felt  vastly  more  at 
ease.  He  chose  a  satin-covered  chair,  and  sat 
down  on  it  with  a  mental  relief  that  made  it 
crack. 

"  Er — would  you  prefer  this  one?  "  Hungerford 
enquired,  wincing  slightly. 

"  No,  no,  my  boy."  He  waved  his  hand  gener- 
ously. **  I'm  all  right— this  '11  do.  Where's  the 
wimmen?     Oh,  here  they  are." 

Miss  Pugh,  her  fingers  genteely  interlaced, 
sailed  in,  paused,  and  looked  around  her.  She 
seemed  a  little  taken  aback — almost  blankly  so, 
in  fact.  Mr.  Casswade  took  it  for  a  natural  attack 
of  **  stage -fright,"  which  was  best  removed  at 
the  outset. 

"  Sit  down,"  he  said,  straightly — so  like  a  hus- 
band. "  Don't  make  out  you've  never  seen  a  fire 
and  a  room  before.     Anyone  'ud  think " 

He  checked  himself  ;  or,  rather.  Miss  Pugh's 
disdainful  glance  up  and  down  him — actually  as  if 
at  a  living  freak — took  his  breath.     It  had  called 


LOW    SOCIETY  239 

attention  to  his  excess  of  flesh  ;  for  an  instant  he 
was  on  the  verge  of  suitable  retaliation.  As 
she  tartly  took  the  chair  in  the  farthest  corner,  he 
made  a  mental  note  of  that  look,  to  be  remembered 
the  moment  the  door  of  Number  Nine  closed  behind 
them . 

All  were  seated — Miss  Pugh  with  rigid  figure 
and  lips  compressed,  Hungerford  dreamily  strok- 
ing his  dark  moustache,  and  Ella,  her  hands  on 
her  lap,  smiling  at  all  in  turn.  For  a  time,  how- 
ever, no  one  seemed  to  have  anything  to  say. 
Casswade  sat  and  stared  at  the  walls  as  long  as  he 
could  contain  himself,  and  then  reached  out  des- 
perately for  the  decanter  and  water -jug. 

"  None  for  me,  thanks,"  said  Hungerford, 
touching  his  throat  significantly. 

"None?  No  wonder  you've  got  a  feverish 
cold."  He  just  managed  to  drop  the  "  bloomin'  " 
and  substitute  the  technical  adjective.  "  How 
about  Mrs.  Hungerford — won't  she?"  And  Ella 
smilingly  declined.  **  I  know  you  won't,"  he  said 
pointedly,  looking  at  the  temporary  Mrs.  Cass- 
wade— it  had  been  so  stipulated  beforehand.  He 
drank,  sat  back,  and  wondered  what  was  going  to 
happen  next. 

Next  moment,  to  his  gasping  amazement — little 
short  of  paralysis — Miss  Pugh  was  heard  speaking 
languidly,  aristocratically. 

"  I  don't  know — I  think  I  prefer  it  to  port — just 
for  once — just  a  taste  out  of  your  glass." 

She  rose,  took  two  or  three  deliberate,  drawn- 
out  sips,  wiped  her  lips,  and  sat  back.  If  the 
ceiling  had  fallen  in  upon  her  at  that  moment,  Mr. 
Casswade  would  not  have  been  more  staggered— 


240  LOW    SOCIETY 

or  more  gratified.  Never  had  he  had  harder  work 
to  keep  from  spitting  across  into  the  fireplace. 
He  sat  and  boiled  inwardly.  "  The  bloomin' 
hussy,"  he  said  to  himself.  "  Cocked  her  eye  over 
it  at  me.  For  two  pins,  she'd  ha*  said,  *  My  lovin' 
husband  *  I  " 

It  was  a  bad  beginning — for  all  except  Miss 
Pugh.  It  struck  him  that,  at  this  rate  of  progres- 
sion, the  business  would  take  a  good  deal  of 
forcing,  to  say  nothing  of  completion.  No  knock 
at  the  door  had  come  as  yet,  and  Hungerford 
himself  seemed  none  too  eager  to  bring  out  the 
twenty-five  pounds  and  force  them  upon  him  as  a 
surprise -packet.  In  truth,  Hungerford  looked  sin- 
gularly preoccupied  as  with  second  thoughts. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  him?  "  Casswade  felt 
impelled  to  demand  of  Ella,  presently,  jerking 
his  head. 

'•  I  think~I  think,"  Ella  said,  with  a  little 
breath -catch,  "  that  he  ought  to  see  a  doctor.  I 
want  him  to.     He  won*t.** 

**  Wise  man,  too,"  commented  Casswade.  **  You 
don't  want  him  put  on  a  slab  and  carved  up  like  a 
shin  o'  beef,  do  you  ?  That's  all  doctors  care  about 
nowadays,  ma'am.  Don't  believe  in  'em,  and  never 
did.  Besides,  he  couldn't  very  well  talk  bis'ness 
in  bed,  could  he?  " 

"  No  ;  of  course  not,"  Ella  said,  uncertainly. 
"  I  don't  wish  him  to  !  "  she  added  quickly,  her  lip 
giving  a  resentful  quiver. 

"  Ah,  that's  where  you're  wrong,  ma'am. 
That's  where  you're  like  all  the  ladies — all  heart 
and  no  brain,"  exclaimed  Casswade,  laying  his 
full -sized  forefinger  on  the  table.      '*  See  what   I 


LOW    SOCIETY  241 

mean?  Your  husband  sees  a  chance  o'  doublin' 
his  money,  and  he's  not  goin'  to  let  it  slide. 
Same  with  your  husband's  friend,  so  to  speak. 
Same  with  me.  How  did  I  make  my  little  bit? 
Not  by  lyin'  in  bed,  ma'am.  The  words  *  bricks 
and  mortar  '  fetched  me  out  quicker  than  any 
med'cine.  Why,  you  wouldn't,  I'm  sure,  if  Mr. 
Hungerford  saw  his  chance  to  buy  up  a  block  o' 
well-built,  tasty,  everlastin'  houses  such  as  these, 
stand  in  his  way " 

**  There's  a  smut  on  your  nose,  dear,"  interposed 
Miss  Pugh,  with  cool,  studied  familiarity. 

For  a  moment  he  regarded  her  with  a  speech- 
less, apoplectic  intensity.  Then  he  remembered. 
With  the  exception  of  "  dear,"  it  was  an  innocent 
little  phrase  agreed  upon  beforehand  in  case  his 
language  appeared  to  be  growing  too  strong  from 
force  of  habit.  Nevertheless,  as  he  rubbed  his 
nose  and  relapsed  into  silence,  he  felt  he  could 
cheerfully  knife  her  where  she  sat — if  only  to 
shorten  her  smile. 

Ella,  her  lips  apart,  had  looked  from  one  to  the 
other,  and  then  again  at  her  husband.  Hunger - 
ford  understood,  roused  heroically,  and  was  upon 
his  feet. 

'*  Suppose  we  have  a  little  music,"  he  said, 
pleasantly.     **  If  you  care  for  it,  that  is." 

'*  Can't  say  I  do,  and  never  did,"  Casswade  was 
about  to  reply — bluntly  enough  to  spike  any  such 
proposal  ;  but  Miss  Pugh  was  too  quick.  "  Oh, 
yes,  we  do  1  "  she  said,  clasping  her  hands  as  in 
ecstasy.  For  an  instant  Mr.  Casswade  verily  be- 
lieved she  was  on  the  point  of  reaching  out  for 
his    tumbler    again,    and    held    his    breath.      But 

L.S.  R 


242  LOW    SOCIETY 

luckily  she  forebore,  and  looked  around  for  a  con- 
cealed piano  instead. 

There  was  no  piano.  Hungerford  went  to  a 
cabinet,  lifted  down  a  violin  and  bow,  and  began 
tuning  the  strings.  Mr.  Casswade  smothered  a 
groan,  and  took  the  opportunity  to  tilt  the  decanter 
again.  He  had  known  plenty  of  people  who  re- 
quired a  good  deal  of  bringing  to  the  point  in 
business  matters  ;  but  it  seemed  to  him  that  this 
shirking  the  bare  mention  of  the  subject  was  posi- 
tively indecent.  The  one  minor  consolation  was 
that  all  fear  of  the  temporary  Mrs.  Casswade  be- 
coming too  confidential  with  Hungerford's  wife, 
seemed  to  be  averted,  Ella  apparently  regarding 
her  with  a  sort  of  doubtful  awe. 

A  pause,  and  then  down  went  Hungerford's 
head  over  the  instrument.  He  played  it  well — 
considerably  better,  perhaps,  than  his  hearers  were 
able  to  appreciate  ;  and  gave  them  from  memory 
a  selection  so  lengthy  and  intricate  that  more  than 
once  Mr.  Casswade  was  on  the  point  of  moving 
from  his  chair.  When  it  ended,  Ella's  eyes  were 
full,  and  Miss  Pugh  inclined  her  head  in  gracious 
acknowledgment . 

"  Really  clever,"  said  Miss  Pugh,  with  an 
accent . 

"  What  piece  might  it  be?  "  Casswade  felt  con- 
strained to  enquire. 

'*  A  sonata,"  Hungerford  informed  him,  men- 
tioning the  composer's  name. 

"  Never  heard  of  it,  nor  him  either,"  said  Cass- 
wade. He  was  getting  uneasy  to  the  point  of 
recklessness.  "  To  tell  you  the  truth,  that 
bloomin'  classical  music " 


LOW    SOCIETY  243 

**  There's  a  smut  on  your "  dutifully  began 

Miss  Pugh.     This  time  she  did  not  finish.     He  had 
turned  on  her  with  almost  a  bellow. 

"Shut  up,  will  you?  Keepin'  on  about  your 
'  smuts  '  !     Look  at  your  own  nose  !  " 

"  You  forget  yourself,  I  think,  Matthew,"  was 
her  trembling  retort.  And  Casswade  slowly  rose, 
staring,  goaded  past  all  appreciation  of  conse- 
quences. 

"  What  !  "  he  gasped.     '*  You — you  dare '* 

"  There's  a  smut  on  your  nose,''  she  reminded 
him,  with  a  titter.  It  was  a  sort  of  indirect  re- 
venge for  the  total  failure  of  all  her  glowing  anti- 
cipations. 

He  fell  back.  What  he  would  have  said,  or 
done,  was  not  clear.  Hungerford  suddenly  handed 
him  a  cigar,  lit  a  match  for  it,  and  replenished 
his  glass  as  a  prudent  move.  He  took  a  gulp,  and 
was  saved. 

"Perhaps  you  prefer  a  song?"  Hungerford 
ventured,  after  the  tactful  lull. 

"  Well,  blimey "  Casswade  began,  incredu- 
lously —  recollected  —  and  looked  at  Miss  Pugh, 
whose  lips  had  just  parted  again.  "  Yes,"  he 
said,  desperately,  "  I  don't  mind  what  it  is—  as 
long  as  you  don't  ask  me  to  sing.  Plenty  o'  time 
for  the  bis'ness,  no  doubt.     Who's  goin'  to  start  ?  " 

"I'm  sure  you  sing,  Mrs.  Hungerford,"  sim- 
pered Miss  Pugh,  tapping  her  archly  with  a  fan 
she  had  brought.  "  Come,  now,  no  naughty  fibs 
to-night  1  " 

"  I  would  rather  hear  you,  if  you  don't  mind," 
Ella  laughed.  Her  cheeks  burned,  and  her  eyes 
looked  wide  and  very  bright.     "  Mr.  Hungerford 

R  2 


244  LOW    SOCIETY 

can  play  anything  by  ear — or  we  have  some  songs. 
Do  I  " 

Miss  Pugh,  some  attention  at  last  being  drawn 
to  her  presence  as  guest,  leaned  her  cheek  on  one 
hand  meditatively.  It  was  years  since  she  had 
been  pressed  to  sing,  privately  or  publicly  ;  and, 
without  being  too  eager,  she  seemed  inclined  to 
break  the  monotony  of  it.  As  Ella  turned  over 
the  music-sheets,  she  gushed  youthfully,  quite  con- 
scious of  Mr.  Casswade's  lowering  glare. 

'*  Ah,  *  Reenboo  !  * — yes,  I  knew  that  one." 

"Which?"  demanded  Mr.  Casswade,  almost 
ferociously. 

"  *  Reen-boo,'  "  she  repeated,  with  dignity  and 
added  high -society  accent.  And  he  drew  a  dan- 
gerous breath. 

"  You  mean  *  Rainbow,*  don't  you?  Well,  then, 
say  'Rainbow,'  and  mind  what  you're  about. 
That's  all  I've  got  to  say  to  you." 

It  was  sufficiently  disturbing.  Hungerford 
struck  up  hastily  on  his  violin,  played  the  prelude 
three  times,  and  waited.  A  pause,  and  then  Miss 
Pugh,  sitting  very  erect,  began  in  a  quivering 
voice,  certainly  soulful  enough  to  suit  the  subject, 
but  pitched  two  notes  too  high,  and  apparently 
going  higher  still. 

"  Help  1  "  struck  in  Mr.  Casswade  hoarsely, 
when  he  had  endured  three  lines  of  it.  Fairly 
writhing,  he  brought  his  hand  down  on  the  table. 
*'  That's  enough  ;  you  dunno  any  more  about 
singin'  than  I  do.  No,  excuse  me,  Mr.  Hunger - 
ford,  I  won't  have  her  makin'  a  fool  of  herself. 
Anythin'  else  you  like,  but  not  that — my  nerves 
won't  stand  it,  and  that's  a  fact." 


LOW    SOCIETY  245 

He  was  aware  that  all  three  regarded  him  with 
mute  misgiving,  as  if  breathlessly  suspecting 
drink  and  disaster  ;  and  the  inability  to  explain 
in  so  many  words  gave  him  a  bursting,  swelling, 
purple  appearance  not  at  all  reassuring. 

"  Contain  yourself,  do  I  **  whispered  Miss  Pugh, 
fanning  herself  violently.  "Mr.  Casswade  does 
suffer  so  from  indigestion,"  she  thought  it  prudent 
to  add  aside,  to  her  hostess. 

Mr.  Casswade  looked  at  her.  He  could  not 
speak  for  the  moment  ;  but  his  expression  was 
valuable  as  a  study  in  the  diabolical.  The  very 
depth  of  his  emotion  was  its  own  antidote.  In  the 
awkward  pause  he  pulled  himself  together. 

"  Let's  have  a  game  at  ha'penny  nap,"  he  sug- 
gested, with  husky  sarcasm.  '*  Or  dominoes — I 
don't  care  which  it  is.  You  mustn't  think  I'm 
unsociable,  or  anythin'  o'  that,  Mr.  Hungerford. 
I've  got  my  funny  little  ways,  that's  all." 

*'  Don't  mention  it,"  said  Hungerford.  "  Don't 
mention  it,"  faintly  murmured  Ella  in  echo.  Miss 
Pugh  dipped  her  face  to  the  fan  as  if  to  hide  a 
titter.  She  had  gone  to  such  lengths  in  her  par- 
donable pique  that  she  could  afford  to  go  a  little 
farther . 

**  I  do  love  whist,"  she  said  impulsively, 
ignoring  Mr.  Casswade's  well-nigh  agonised  look 
at  the  mention  of  the  word.  "  Not  for  money — 
oh,  no,  of  course  not.  We  hardly  ever  play  at 
home.  Let's  see — yes,  there  are  just  four  of  us. 
I  should  love  to  organise  a  real  whist  -  drive, 
wouldn't  you?  Just  ourselves  and  a  few  other  nice 
people." 

Mr.  Casswade  gazed  hard  at  the  ceiling — pre- 


246  LOW    SOCIETY 

sumably  with  professional  interest  in  a  crack  up 
there — and  then  deliberately  drew  out  his  watch. 

"  Eight -fifteen/'  he  pronounced  slowly  ;  "  and 
your  friend  hasn't  come  yet." 

He  looked  up.  Ella  had  obviously  heard 
nothing,  and  Hungerford  had  his  head  inside  the 
cabinet  in  search  of  something.  *'  Well,"  said 
Mr.  Casswade  to  himself,  "  if  I  don't  bust  soon, 
it's  a  marvel." 

**  Ella,  dear,"  came  Hungerford's  voice,  *'  where 
are  the  cards  ?     Do  you  remember  at  all  ?  " 

"  Why—"  she  thought  hard—"  I  think  they  are 
in  the  drawer  upstairs .  We  have  never  used  them 
yet." 

'*  Bad  luck  to  begin  now,"  muttered  Casswade. 
It  was  his  last  chance,  and  it  was  lost.  Hunger - 
ford,  only  too  glad  to  oblige  his  company,  was 
gone. 

Stark  silence  reigned,  save  for  Casswade 's 
breathing.  Presently,  as  Hungerford's  feet  could 
be  heard  tramping  to  and  fro  in  the  room  over- 
head, Ella  sprang  up — clearly  disposed  to  allow 
her  guests  a  moment  to  themselves . 

*'  Can't  you  find  them,  dear?  I'm  coming  ;  I 
think  I  know  where  they  are." 

She  slipped  out.  Mr.  Casswade  folded  his  arms 
and  leaned  across  the  table  toward  Miss  Pugh . 

**  Now,  you  beggar  on  horseback,"  he  began, 
slowly,  "  you've  had  your  turn,  haven't  you  ?  Now, 
mark  me,  as  sure  as  you  sit  there  with  your 
bloomin'  fan " 

It  broke  off.  There  had  come  a  quiet  rat -tat - 
tat.  Mr.  Casswade  swayed  up,  every  other  con- 
sideration wiped  out  of  existence  for  the  moment. 


LOW    SOCIETY  247 

**  Here  he  is,"  he  said.  "  He's  come.  That's 
him." 

With  an  involuntary  roll,  willing  to  oblige,  he 
moved  out  toward  the  front  door. 


CHAPTER    XXI 

**  Good  evenin'.  How  are  you,  sir?  "  said  Mr. 
Casswade,  quite  affably.  The  front  door  was  open. 
His  big  body  obscured  the  hall -light  behind,  and 
he  was  a  trifle  short-sighted  ;  but  it  was  enough 
that  the  gentleman  stood  there,  his  coat -collar 
turned  up.  "  You  look  cold.  Come  in  !  "  He 
closed  the  door  and  turned,  a  hand  to  his  mouth. 
"  Your  friend  arrived,  Mr.  Hungerford — I've  took 
the  liberty  !  This  way,  sir, — we've  been  expectin* 
you  some  time." 

The  gentleman  followed  him,  and  stood  just 
inside  the  back -parlour  doorway,  as  if  somewhat 
surprised  by  the  rugged  warmth  of  his  welcome. 
Casswade  dragged  forward  a  chair  and  reached 
out  for  the  decanter,  intent  upon  establishing 
mutual  confidence  at  the  very  outset  ;  Miss  Pugh 
rose,  with  the  bow  of  a  dowager  duchess  in 
reserve. 

'*  Hello  !  "  This  was  Hungerford 's  excla- 
mation, as  he  reached  the  foot  of  the  stair. 

**  Hullo  !  "  echoed  the  gentleman,  a  little 
lamely.  Mr.  Casswade,  pouring  the  whiskey 
without  stint,  made  a  convulsive  movement  as  if 
someone  had  jammed  a  pin  into  him  from  behind. 

He  looked.  His  hard -worked  face  took  a  yel- 
lowish tint  and  then  purpled  again.  He  had  just 
sufficient  presence  of  mind  to  set  down  the 
decanter  without  cracking  it. 


LOW    SOCIETY  249 

**  What — who's  this?"  he  demanded,  almost 
soundlessly.  And  Baversham  lifted  his  hat,  with 
a  sickly  little  laugh.  **  Good  evenin',  Mr.  Cass- 
wade,"  he  said.  '*  Yes,  I  jest  called  in,  on 
bis'ness.  I  didn't  expect  to  find  anyone  else 
here." 

**  Bis'ness?"  Casswade,  his  breath  coming  in 
spasms,  caught  upon  the  word.     "Bis'ness?    Am 

I "     He  looked  round  at  Hungerford.  "  'Scuse 

me,   is  this  your  friend?  "  he  gasped,  pointing. 

**  Certainly,  he  is  a  friend  of  mine,"  said  Hun- 
gerford, mystified.     **  I  think  you  know  him?  " 

**  Know  him  I  ....  Is  this — do  you  mean 
this  is  the  *  friend  *  you've  asked  here  to  meet 
me?" 

"  Mr.  Baversham  ?  No  ;  I  had  no  idea  he  meant 
to  call.     But " 

'*  It's  all  right,"  put  in  Baversham,  his  own  face 
streaked.  "  I  don't  want  to  put  anyone  out.  I 
jest  dropped  in  to  see  Mr.  Hungerford  on  a  little 
private  afi'air — that  he  knows  of — that's  all.  I 
wouldn't  for  worlds " 

'*  Nonsense.  Give  me  your  hat  and  coat — sit 
down,"  said  Hungerford,  a  little  nettled  by  Mr. 
Casswade 's  truculent  attitude  throughout — due  to 
liquor,  he  and  Ella  had  convinced  themselves. 
**  We're  quite  an  informal  party.  Here's  Mrs. 
Casswade — but  you  know  Mrs.  Casswade,  of 
course  1  " 

Baversham,  palpably  overwhelmed,  bowed  stiffly 
in  all  directions  ;  "  Mrs.  Casswade,"  with  a  doubt- 
ful glance  at  her  temporary  spouse,  bowed  back. 
Next  moment,  Baversham  was  taking  off  the  raw 
edge  of  his  constraint  with  a  glass  of  port  ;  and, 


250  LOW    SOCIETY 

amid  some  brave  attempt  at  laughter,   the  cards 
were  being  shuffled  and  dealt  for  four. 

"  Not  me,"  muttered  Mr.  Casswade,  shaking 
his  head  decisively.  For  a  moment  longer  he 
had  stood  as  in  the  throes  of  another  bad  attack 
of  indigestion  ;  then,  with  a  mighty  effort,  he  had 
mastered  himself  and  yielded  under  protest  to  the 
staggering  irony  of  circumstance.  In  truth,  a 
sort  of  muffling  haze  had  crept  over  the  proceed- 
ings and  dulled  his  comprehension.  He  was 
swayed  chaotically  between  the  hope  of  **  busi- 
ness "  and  an  abrupt  intimation  to  "  Mrs.  Cass- 
wade '*  to  put  on  her  things  and  come  home. 
"  Not  me,"  he  said  ;  "  you've  got  your  four  ;  I 
can  wait  till  you're  done."  He  half  turned  his 
back,  produced  his  big  briar  pipe,  and  smoked 
strong  black  tobacco,  utterly,  morosely  regardless 
of  anyone's  susceptibilities  from  now. 

Presently,  indeed,  during  a  lull  in  the  game. 
Miss  Pugh  hazarded  a  significant  cough. 
"  There's  a  smut  on  your  pipe,  dear,"  she  said> 
with  cunning  variation,  if  not  conciliation.  "I'm 
sure  of  it." 

He  did  not  even  move.  Staring  glassily  out, 
he  smoked  harder  than  ever.  He  had  quite  done 
with  Miss  Pugh  for  the  nonce  ;  in  fact,  he  had  done 
with  her  for  evermore.  He  was  making  no  further 
pretence  at  sentimental  interest  in  Hungerford's 
little  **  at  home."  Deepest  of  all,  in  his  mental 
cauldron,  bubbled  the  thought  that  he  himself  had 
ushered  young  Baversham  on  to  the  scene  with 
such  eclat,  when  he  could  have  twisted  his  ear  and 
slammed  the  door  in  his  face  as  revenge  for  all. 

Baversham,  conversely,  appeared  to  be  rapidly 


LOW    SOCIETY  251 

recovering  his  normal  nerve,  and  even  laughed 
right  out  when  Miss  Pugh  revoked  and  said  she 
understood  it  was  permissible  when  not  playing 
for  money.  Once  again  Mr.  Casswade  secretly 
suspended  his  breath  for  the  crash,  as  it  seemed 
humanly  inevitable  that  Baversham  must  make 
some  casual  reference  to  the  fact  that  he  had  un- 
derstood Miss  Pugh  to  be  a  maiden  lady.  But 
minutes  went  by,  and  the  bolt  had  not  fallen.  If 
only  it  were  averted  for  the  time  being,  and  the 
business  hopes  materialized,  Mr.  Casswade  began 
to  think  it  was  not  such  a  deadly  fiasco,  after  all. 
Once  rid  of  Miss  Pugh,  he  could  repudiate  the 
idea  that  he  had  ever  known  such  a  woman,  or 
could  laugh  at  the  whole  occurrence  as  a  designed 
joke. 

He  could  hardly  credit  his  ears  when,  presently, 
he  heard  young  Baversham  yawn  and  say  that  he 
thought  he  must  be  "off." 

'*  Is  that  so?  "  Hungerford  asked. 

Yes,  he  said.  He  had  one  or  two  things  to  see 
to,  it  being  Friday — he  would  call  in  some  other 
day.  He  drank  up  his  port,  bowed  to  the  com- 
pany, and  went.  It  was  as  if  a  dangerous  bomb 
had  been  removed.  As  the  front  door  banged, 
Mr.  Casswade  laid  down  his  pipe  and  faced  round. 

*'  Merciful  relief,"  he  said,  briefly.  "  I  don't 
like  that  man.  Never  mind  why  ;  we  don't  want 
to  talk  about  him.  All  I  say  is,  it's  a  good  job 
for  you  you  weren't  playin'  for  cash.  That's 
enough."  He  took  a  drink,  and  squared  his 
shoulders  for  definite  action.  "  Well,  now,  Mr. 
Hungerford,"  he  said,  "there's  no  offence.  I'm 
sure  we've  had  a  very  enjoyable  hour.     If  you've 


252  LOW    SOCIETY 

got  anythin'  to  say  to  me,  as  regards  oar  little 
affair,  while  the  ladies  chat  about  nothin',  I'm 
your  man." 

"Our  little  affair?"  repeated  Hungerford, 
••What  was  that?" 

**  What  was  it?  Why,  the  house — the  bis'ness 
— anythin*  you  like  to  propose  ;  I  leave  that  to 
you,  of  course.  You  needn't  be  frightened  to 
speak  out." 

And  his  astonished  stare  followed  Hungerford 's 
glance  around  the  walls. 

"  Well,"  Hungerford  said,  "  I  suppose  it  is  in- 
evitable that  new  wall-papers  should  discolour  and 
fade  ;  and  there  are  one  or  two  other  little  things 
that  seem  to  want  attention  ;  but,  generally  speak- 
ing, I  think  we  are  very  well  satisfied  with  the 
house.     Yes — very  !  " 

"  Yes  ;  go  on — fire  away,"  urged  Casswade, 
stimulatingly.  **  So,  bein'  satisfied,  you  and  your 
friend  have  agreed  between  you  to — er — well,  hang 
it,  what  have  you  fixed  up — 'scuse  me?" 

Hungerford  glanced  at  his  Ella,  who  bit  her  lip 
and  glanced  at  the  floor.  Casswade  drew  in  a 
big  breath  and  spread  himself  over  the  table,  frog- 
like. 

*'  Look  here,  it's  like  this,"  he  said,  earnestly. 
"  I  don't  mind  waitin'  all  night,  come  to  that  ;  but 
if  you  ain't  prepared  to  make  a  move  any  way 
without  your  friend,  and  if  he  really  wants  to  do 
bis'ness,  what's  keepin'  him  ?  Why  ain't  he  turned 
up?" 

Hungerford  racked  his  brains  as  if  for  a 
plausible  reason.  But  all  that  came  of  it  was  a 
thoughtful  :  "  Which  friend  do  you  refer  to  ?  " 


LOW    SOCIETY  253 

"Which?"  Down  came  Casswade's  knuckles 
impetuously  on  the  table.  **  How  the  deuce  should 
I  know?  I'm  here  to  meet  the  man,  ain't  I?  I 
can't  sell  a  feller  property  in  his  absence,  can  t  ?  " 

"  Certainly  not,"  Hungerford  agreed,  promptly. 

A  pause,  while  both  sat  breathless  and  motion- 
less. Hungerford,  indeed,  looked  as  if  he  would 
like  to  shift  from  his  chair,  but  felt  a  little  hyp- 
notised by  the  other's  fishy  glare. 

"  Do  you  know,  Mr.  Casswade,"  he  ventured  at 
length,  pushing  a  hand  through  his  hair,  **  I 
fancy  you  have  got  a  little  mixed.  I  mean,  you 
must  be  confounding  me  with  someone  else.  I 
do,  really.  I  can't  recall  that  I  expected  any 
friend  here  to-night  in  particular — can  you,  Ella?  " 

Ella  smoothed  her  dress  down.  What  she  whis- 
pered was  too  vague  to  be  of  any  service.  With 
tremendous  calm,  his  head  on  one  side,  Casswade 
leaned  a  little  nearer  still. 

"  P'r'aps,"  he  said,  very  distinctly,  "  p'r'aps 
you'll  say  in  a  minnit  you  didn't  expect  me?  '' 

"  I  didn't,"  shot  back  the  frank,  involuntary 
reply.  "  I  had  no  idea  of  it."  And  Mr.  Cass- 
wade sat  back. 

*'  Well,  I'm  damned,"  he  said.  He  looked  all 
round  at  them.  '*  'Scuse  me,  but — I'm  damned," 
he  repeated.  "  Well,  strike  me  purple,"  he  was 
further  impelled  to  add.  **  Am  I  on  my  bloomin' 
head,  or  what  ?  Where  are  we — who  are  we — and 
what  are  we?  " 

And  no  one  seemed  able  to  answer  a  single 
query.  In  the  prolonged  hush,  Ella  rose  and 
rustled  from  the  room.  Hungerford  looked  pale, 
amused,  and  grave  in  turns.     Miss  Pugh  appeared 


2  54  LOW    SOCIETY 

to  have   no   faculties   left   at    all,    and   simply   sat 
vacuous. 

"  In  all  my  born  days,"  came  Casswade's  voice 
again,  muffled  by  emotion  that  could  find  no  outlet, 
•'  I've  never — Here  I  "  He  had  an  inspiration. 
"  You're  a  slippery  sort,  Mr.  Hungerford  ;  but 
p'r'aps  you  do  remember  callin'  at  my  house  one 
night  last  week,  about  this  very  affair — if  I'm  not 
mistaken,  that  is  ?  " 

"  Ah,  I  did,"  said  Hungerford.  "  I  called  out 
of  curiosity  to  ask  why  you  had  insured  these 
houses  for  a  hundred  pounds  above  their  purchase - 
value.  I  didn't  learn  till  afterwards  that  you 
had  a  standing  arrangement  to  that  effect  with 
the  Insurance  Company.  But  as  I  shall  have  to 
pay  the  premiums,  and  not  you,"  he  added,  a  little 
abruptly,  '*  we  needn't  refer  to  that  again." 

"  That's  all  you  came  for,  is  it  ?  "  asked  Cass- 
wade,  not  moving. 

"  That's  all.  I  thought  it  at  first  a  mistake  on 
your  part — a  queer  arrangement,  anyhow." 

"But  this  'ere's  a  much  queerer,  ain't  it?" 
Casswade's  hand  moved  toward  a  waistcoat  pocket. 
"  What  you  sit  there  and  tell  me,  then,  is  that  you 
had  no  idea  of  a  payment  in  a  lump  sum,  or  of  any 
bis'ness  whatever  ?  You  jest  threw  it  out  as  a  bit 
o'  bait,  like,  'cause  you  knew  Casswade  required 
some  hookin'  ?  You  wanted  to  be  special  friendly, 
like,  all  along,  didn't  you?  " 

Hungerford,  nursing  one  knee,  looked  steadily 
back  with  his  dreamy  dark  eyes.  He  declined  to 
answer  verbally.  Maybe,  too,  he  thought  silence 
the  safer. 

"  Didn't  you?  "  repeated  Mr.  Casswade,  like  a 


LOW    SOCIETY  255 

stage -actor  creeping  nearer  and  nearer  to  his  de- 
nouement. "  Well,  allow  me  to  tell  you  that,  when 
you  wrote  that  letter,  you  took  an  infernal  bloomin' 
liberty  on  yourself.  In  any  other  man  but  you,  Td 
call  it  somethin*  more.  And  p'r'aps  you  ain't  heard 
the  last  of  it.  That's  me.  And  I'm  known  from 
east  to  west  o'  Barkin'." 

Hungerford  glanced  at  the  door,  and  back  at 
*'  Mrs.  Casswade."  ''  Mrs.  Casswade's  "  expres- 
sion gave  no  clue  as  to  what  she  knew  of  her 
husband's  mental  condition.  Hungerford  slowly 
got  to  his  feet.  Casswade  rose,  too,  with  as  near 
a  dramatic  movement  as  he  could  achieve. 

"  *  That  letter  * "  Hungerford  began,  clear- 
ing his  throat. 

*•  Yes,  sir— that  letter  I  " 

"I'd  like  to  see  it,"  Hungerford  said.  "  When 
can   I ?  " 

"  When  can  you?  Now  1  It's  here  ;  jest  as  it 
happens,  I  took  it  out  o*  my  old  overcoat  as  I 
started,  to  refer  to.  I  didn't  think — I  didn't  think 
I  was  bein'  made  a  fool  and  convenience.  Here 
you  are,  sir — your  own  words."  His  thick  fingers 
shook,  as  he  drew  out  a  sheet  of  notepaper,  folded 
several  times  to  fit  the  waistcoat  pocket.  He 
unfolded  it,  and  rapped  it  with  the  back  of  his 
hand.  "  A  dirty  trick,  sir— that's  what  this  is. 
A— a " 

It  trailed  off.  He  stared  at  the  sheet — turned  it 
over — turned  it  back  again.  It  was  blank.  Save 
that  it  was  soiled,  there  was  not  a  mark  upon  it. 

Mr.  Casswade  suddenly  crushed  it  in  his  palm, 
and  then  thrust  it  back  into  his  pocket.  He  stood, 
the  little   '*  boiled  "  eyes  seeming  about  to  start 


256  LOW    SOCIETY 

from  their  sockets .  The  room  grew  hot  ;  a  sort  of 
black  magic  was  all  about  him.  He  looked  to  be 
growing  bigger  and  bigger,  as  though  air  were 
being  pumped  into  him.  Just  as  it  appeared  that 
the  bulges  of  the  frock-coat  must  part  with  a 
bang — that  the  Nemesis  of  the  "  fat  "  theory  had 
really  claimed  him — he  gave  a  little  sigh  of  sub- 
sidence, looked  feebly  round,  and  saw  Miss  Pugh. 

"  Come  on  home,  you  !  " 

It  was  only  a  whisper,  but  not  one  to  be  dis- 
regarded. His  arm  out,  he  groped  for  the  door, 
and  Miss  Pugh  followed  on  tiptoe.  It  was  a  literal 
fact  that  Hungerford  could  not  move. 

A  low  light  burned  in  the  front  parlour.  Mr. 
Casswade  snatched  up  his  coat  and  hat,  snatched 
up  Miss  Pugh's  '*  things  "in  a  bundle,  and 
turned. 

"  Open  that  door,"  he  commanded,  huskily. 
**  Out  of  it."     She  obeyed.     They  were  outside. 

"  Bang  it  I  "     And  Miss  Pugh  banged  it. 

"  I — I  didn't  wish  to  appear  what  I'm  not,"  she 
faltered,  as  he  strode  down  the  pavement,  his  arms 
full. 

**  Shut  your  noise,"  he  muttered,  **  or  I'll  do 
somethin'  to  you."  He  paused.  **  Put  'em  on — 
quick  1  "  And  Miss  Pugh  had  never  completed 
her  outdoor  toilet  more  rapidly.  '*  Now,  not 
another  bit  o'  lip  from  you,  or  you'll  hear  what  I 
think.     Come  on  !  " 

He  rolled  on.  Miss  Pugh  gliding  silently  an  inch 
in  the  rear — like  an  eel  in  tow  of  a  porpoise.  The 
electric  cars  swung  by,  but  he  did  not  suggest  a 
ride,  inside  or  out.  He  said  no  word — apparently 
he  had   forgotten   her   presence  ;   when   suddenly, 


LOW    SOCIETY  257 

as  they  passed  under  a  lamp,  out  of  the  darkness 
from  somewhere  at  hand  came  a  clear,  ringing 
voice. 

"  Good  evenin',  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Casswade,"  it 
said.  Mr.  Casswade  started  convulsively,  clutched 
at  the  lamp,  and  stared.  He  seemed  to  think  he 
had  heard  it  in  a  dream.  He  went  on.  What 
Miss  Pugh  thought,  would  never  be  known. 

Gradually  the  glow  of  lights  increased,  and  the 
Friday  night  throng  thickened.  They  were  within 
a  short  distance  of  the  main  Barking  thorough- 
fares— so  near,  indeed,  that  even  Mr.  Casswade 
appeared  forced  to  realise  his  compromising  posi- 
tion. He  drew  up,  to  point  Miss  Pugh  down  a 
side -turning. 

"  The  doorkey  1  "  she  breathed.  "I'm  sorry — 
I  forgot  mine — not  thinking  I  "  He  glared  wildly, 
and  fumbled  for  his  own.  They  had  to  draw  back 
a  little — the  passers-by  formed  quite  a  crowd  here. 
And,  as  suddenly,  as  thrillingly  again,  from  the 
edge  of  it  came  a  clear,  arresting  voice. 

"  Nice  evenin',  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Casswade  I  " 

The  key  clattered  down  from  Mr.  Casswade 's 
fingers.  He  pushed  out  with  both  arms  precipi- 
tately, and  was  lost  to  sight. 


L.S. 


CHAPTER    XXII 

**  She's  off  again,"  said  Mr.  Shadd,  making  an 
unsteady  appearance  from  the  shop  into  the  par- 
lour beyond.     "  She's  gone." 

It  was  so  tragically  done  that  Mrs.  Shadd 
dropped  her  needlework  and  looked  like  bursting 
into  tears.  Instead,  she  gave  the  cat  asleep  upon 
her  lap  a  cuff  that  sent  it  thudding  into  the  fire- 
place. 

"Gone?  What's  the  use  of  telling  me  she's 
gone?     Why  didn't  you  stop  her?  " 

**  I  couldn't.  I  heard  the  side  door  click,  and 
there  she  was,  going  past  like  a  rasher  of  wind. 
Gibson's  boy  was  in  the  shop  ;  I've  sent  him  flying 
after  her,  to  say  she's  to  come  back  or  take  the 
consequences.      Hark  !  " 

They  listened  hard  a  moment.  Then  a  howl 
was  heard  outside.  It  was  Gibson's  boy,  return- 
ing with  Selina's  reply  imprinted  upon  his  cheek. 

"  My  goodness  I  Stop  that  noise,  do  I  "  Fear- 
ful of  Tamplin  Street  knowing  all,  Mr.  Shadd 
pounced  out  and  dragged  him  inside.  "  Stop  it 
at  once,  or  you  shan't  have  the  twopence.  What 
did  she  do?  " 

"  I  told  her,  and  she — she  turned  round  and 
fetched  me  a  wipe  over  the  jaw,  and  knocked  me 
down,  and  then  kicked  me,"  sobbed  Gibson's  boy. 

**  Boys  who  can  tell  lies  like  that,"  said  Mr. 


LOW    SOCIETY  259 

Shadd,  with  feeling,  after  a  diplomatic  wait, 
"  can't  be  trusted  with  money.  Here  I  "  He 
turned  to  pick  up  a  peppermint  drop,  wrapped  it 
in  newspaper,  and  plunged  it  into  the  boy's 
pocket.  '*  There,  don't  undo  it  till  you  get  nearly 
home.  Go  on  I  "  He  went  back  to  the  parlour, 
and  sat  down  as  with  all  interest  in  life  gone. 
"I'm  done,"  he  said.  "  After  waiting  on  her  hand 
and  foot  for  nineteen  years,  she  turns  round  and 
says  she*s  as  much  a  woman  as  you  are,  and  '11 
do  as  she  likes.  She  meets  him  somewhere — I'm 
sure  of  it,  as   I  sit  here." 

**  You  can't  help  being  clever,"  sniffed  Mrs. 
Shadd,  snatching  up  her  work.  "  She  couldn't 
very  well  meet  him  nowhere." 

'*  She'll  run  off  with  him,  and  disgrace  us — 
you  see,"  he  went  on,  mournfully.  "  What's 
coming  to  everything,  I  don't  know.  The  shop's 
only  half  what  it  was,  she's  been  and  taken  leave 
of  her  senses  like  this,  and  we've  lost  our  best 
friend  in  Casswade  all  through  her.  You  can 
sniff — I  know  what  I'm  saying.  He's  not  the 
same  man  lately — scowls  and  tries  to  look  blind 
when  I  pass  him.  Showed  me  quite  plainly  that 
he'd  had  enough  of  us,  when  I  stopped  him  in  the 
street  last  Sunday.  It's  cruel  from  beginning  to 
end." 

**  Might  he  have  had  anything  more  to  say 
about  Baversham?"  she  enquired. 

**  Only  a  word  or  two,  but  you  could  see  it 
rankled.  Said  he  hoped  he'd  die  with  his  neck  in 
a  noose  and  his  legs  in  hot  lead.  Said  he  was 
sick  of  everybody  and  everything  inside  Barking 
and  out.     Of  course,  I  could  see  he  meant  you 

s  2 


26o  LOW    SOCIETY 

and  me,  too.  Said  he  had  a  good  mind  to  blow 
up  all  his  houses  and  everyone  in  'em.  And, 
mind  you,  he  looked  it,  too.  I  never  saw  a  man 
age  in  a  few  weeks  as  he's  done." 

**  He's  not  coming  in  here  again,  at  any  rate," 
said  Mrs.  Shadd,  with  feminine  inconsequence, 
nodding  away.  "  One  drunken  fit  will  last  you 
for  a  long  time,  if  I  know  it." 

**  I  was  not  drunk,  and  I  dare  you  to  say  so 
again,"  replied  Mr.  Shadd,  with  justifiable  heat. 
**  I  was  overcome — nothing  more  nor  less." 

"  Exactly,"  she  whispered,  with  woman's  "  last 
word."  *'  That's  what  Bogie  Lawrence  told  the 
magistrates  on  Monday  ;  and  they  gave  him  two 
months  to  recoup.     They'd  have  given  you  six." 

Mr.  Shadd  went  into  the  shop,  slammed  the 
curtained  door  behind  him,  and  stuck  an  extra 
halfpenny  on  to  the  price  of  the  ninepenny  bacon. 

Near  a  month  had  passed.  It  was  thrillingly 
close  upon  Christmas.  Just  a  powder  of  dry  snow 
had  covered  the  ground  as  with  a  shower  of  seed- 
pearls.  For  those  able  to  enjoy  it,  there  was  an 
exhilarating  tingle  in  the  air — a  rare  atmospheric 
clarity  in  which  the  stars  above  gleamed  like 
points  of  cut  steel,  and  the  long  lines  of  lit  shops 
below  stretched  away  like  jewelled  rods.  Selina 
Shadd,  marching  in  a  calm  delirium  along  the 
main  road,  attributed  the  musical  ring  her  feet 
drew  from  the  pavements  to  her  own  newly-dis- 
covered self-reliance  and  assertion.  Baversham, 
who  was  not  to  be  conquered  by  caresses,  could 
scarcely  fail  to  be  impressed  by  a  whole  series  of 
defiant  scoutings  of  parental  authority.  Besides, 
it  breathed  old-world  mystery.     And,  next  to  the 


LOW    SOCIETY  261 

"  passionnel  "  element  in  Parisian  life,  Selina  loved 
mediaeval  mystery. 

He  was  waiting  there,  at  the  same  secluded 
corner,  smoking  a  cigarette  and  leaning  against  a 
pillar-box. 

**  Postman's  cleared  it  twice,"  he  said,  rousing 
from  a  reverie.  *'  I  was  goin'  to  give  you  jest 
another  ten  minutes.  All  right,  we  won't  have  any 
o'  that  !  "  Selina  had  essayed  a  sob,  as  after 
something  heroic  undertaken  on  his  account.  **  If 
it  upsets  them  too  much,  or  upsets  you  at  all,  I 
haven't  persuaded  you  either  way,  and  don't  ever 
you  say  I  have." 

George  made  it  clear  on  each  occasion  that  his 
attitude  was  one  of  strict  reservation.  While 
softening  so  far  as  to  ostensibly  resume  walking 
out,  and  even  to  allow  Selina  to  hint  that  the  past 
was  **  all  wiped  out  and  done  with,"  he  wished  it  to 
be  understood  that  his  final  decision  in  **  Baver- 
sham  v.  Shadd  and  others  "  was  deferred.  Selina, 
even  with  her  arm  around  him,  was  in  the  position 
of  one  bound  to  come  up  for  judgment  if  called 
upon.  **  Strict  platonic,  mind,  and  no  bogey,"  was 
the  guarded  legal  phrase  with  which  George  had 
ended  his  first  written  communication  after  the 
impasse.  And  Selina,  although  carefully  abstain- 
ing from  asking  the  real  meaning  of  the  word,  was 
very  good  at  guessing. 

'*  I  walked  straight  out,"  she  said,  her  lips  set 
determinedly.  '*  If  they  had  locked  me  in  twice 
over,  I  should  have  done  just  the  same." 

**  How?  "  asked  George,  who  had  a  nasty  knack 
of  overlooking  the  lofty  sentiment  and  being  a 
stickler  as  to  mere  prosaic  details. 


262  LOW    SOCIETY 

"How?  That's  a  silly  question,"  Selina  said, 
looking  away  while  she  bit  at  her  handkerchief. 
**  You  ought  to  know  by  this  time — love  laughs  at 
locksmiths." 

**  In  ha'penny  books."  George  lit  another 
cigarette.  **  No  daughter  o'  mine  'ud  ever  get  out 
to  meet  a  feller  I  didn't  fancy." 

*'  Oh,  well,"  she  said,  "  it's  different  when  it's 
your  own  child,  of  course."  A  pause.  **  Won't 
it  seem  strange  ?  "  she  added,  in  an  absent  key. 
"Us,  I  mean." 

'*  It  will,"  he  agreed,  grimly.  '-Sort  o*  dream, 
like,  I  should  say." 

They  walked  on  a  little  way,  and  by  then  Selina 
had  so  far  recovered  as  to  titter.  "  Mind  we  don't 
go  past  Mr.  Casswade's  house.  We're  very  near  it." 

"I'd  like  to,"  George  said  ;  *-  at  eight  o'clock 
to-morrow  mornin'.     I've  half  a  mind  to,  too." 

"  Good  gracious,  whatever  for?  " 

"  'Cause  I've  jest  posted  four  more  Chris'mus 
postcards  to  *  Mrs.  Casswade,'  wishin'  a  happy 
Chris'mus  to  the  bride  and  bridegroom.  That 
makes  nine,  all  from  different  pillar-boxes,  and  all 
in  different  handwritin'." 

"  And  all  in  the  same  ink?  "  Selina  asked,  with 
a  gasp. 

"  All  in  the  same  ink.  They  won't  have  a  word 
to  show  in  three  days'  time." 

"But  where  did  you  buy  it?  You  might  tell 
just  me.'* 

"  Didn't  buy  it.  A  nurse  gave  it  to  me.  They 
use  it  to  put  the  hospital  mark  on  the  patients' 
underlinen  for  a  day  or  so — when  there's  any 
underlinen  to  mark,  I  s'pose." 


LOW    SOCIETY  263 

**  Great  friend  of  yours,  I  presume,"  said  Selina, 
chilling. 

"  Ah,  you're  right.  A  walkin*  angel,  she  is. 
Wings  underneath,  right  enough." 

"  Very  strange  you  didn't  marry  her  to  see," 
Selina  breathed. 

**  Wasn't  asked,"  he  admitted.  **  That  sort  o* 
woman  don't  marry.  They  know  too  much.  It's 
always  been  a  licker  to  me  a  doctor  can  sit  down 
to  a  chop  or  a  steak,  let  alone  a  'aitch-bone." 

Another  pause.  "  Funny  you  should  speak 
about  it  —  I've  often  thought  of  becoming  a 
hospital  nurse,"  Selina  whispered,  then.  **  I've 
thought  still  more  about  it  lately." 

It  failed  utterly. 

**  Take  my  tip,"  George  said,  coldly,  *'  and  don't 
start  practisin'  on  men's  hearts." 

By  degrees  Selina  unhooked  her  arm  from  his. 
Her  own  heart,  which  had  been  pounding  so  hard 
against  its  corsage  that  he  might  almost  hear  it, 
was  relapsing  into  its  normal  state.  Once  again 
it  seemed  that  the  assignation,  for  all  its  surrepti- 
tious element,  was  to  resolve  itself  into  a  mere 
commonplace  stroll  along  side -streets.  No  sign 
of  even  a  hint  from  George  as  to  what  an  elope- 
ment would  cost.  And  she  was  willing  to  fall  in 
with  the  cheapest  method  conceivable. 

**  I — I  don't  think  we  can  keep  on  like  this," 
she  was  stung  to  saying,  as  they  came  out  into  a 
curve  of  the  main  road  beyond  Barking  Town. 
And  George  looked  round  at  her  as  in  surprise. 
It  was  always  a  secret  grievance  with  Selina  that 
he  had  not  to  look  down. 

"  Why,  we're  close  on  it,"  he  said. 


2  64  LOW    SOCIETY 

"  Close  on— what?  " 

"  Mandalay  Gardens.  I'm  goin'  to  call  and  see 
how  he  is,  and  what's  the  matter.  I've  heard 
that  he's  been  taken  worse  again.  Didn't  I  tell 
you?  *' 

**  Yes  ;  you  think  far  more  of  him — or  her — 
now  than  you  do  of  me.  .  .  .  What  I  mean  is, 
perhaps  I've  made  myself  too  cheap  all  along. 
Men  don't  like  cheap  things."  She  hung  her  head, 
and  plucked  hard  at  the  frayed  hem  of  her  hand- 
kerchief. "  Pick  up  any  paper  you  like,"  she  said, 
**  and  you'll  read  that  if  a  man  cares  for  a  woman 
at  all,  he'll  go  after  her,  no  matter  how  he  dis- 
likes her  parents  and  relations — no  matter  if  she 
lives  in  a  hovel.    And  it's  true." 

**And  didn't  I?"  demanded  George.  "I 
reckon  I  came  once  too  often,  if  you  ask  me.  Be- 
sides, what  are  you  talkin'  about  ?  What  you're 
hankerin*  after,  I  s'pose,  is  for  them  to  lock  you  in, 
and  for  me  to  walk  up  with  a  crowbar  and  a 
pistol.     Not  me  !  " 

"  You  know  they  don't  mean  anything,"  Selina 
faltered.  "  You'd  be  a  demon,  as  you  said,  if  it 
was  your  own  daughter.  It's  natural  they  should 
feel  there  was  some  misunderstanding  about — 
about  the  money,  as  I  wouldn't  tell  'em  all. 
Heaven  knows,"  she  added,  with  a  timely  rush  of 
tears,  '*  heaven  knows,  you've  got  even  with  Cass- 
wade  himself  over  it." 

"  Not  yet,"  George  said,  slowly.  *'  I  ain't  half 
up  to  him  yet.  But  as  for  your  father  and  mother 
— well,  I'm  simply  done  with  the  pair  of  'em. 
There's  no  enmity,  there's  no  nothin'  ;  they  can 
go.     When  once  you've  trusted  a  party,  and  found 


LOW    SOCIETY  '265 

him  out,  you  must  be  a  fool  or  a  liar  if  you  can 
ever  feel  the  same  towards  him  again.  Mind  you, 
I'm  not  so  surprised,"  he  explained,  as  a  softener. 
**  I  was  lookin'  only  yesterday  at  their  portraits  in 
the  album  you  gave  me.  Ton  my  word,  one  looks 
like  a  goat,  and  the  other's  got  a  downright  tabby- 
cat  look.  And  you  might  have  been  a  mix-up  of 
both.     Good  job  you're  not." 

Selina  gasped,  and  tried  to  realise  the  aptness  of 
the  simile  ;  but  thought  it  wise  to  let  the  hint  at 
reconciliation  slide,  and  fasten  upon  a  promising 
side-issue. 

*'  In  that  case,"  she  said,  wiping  her  eyes,  **  I 
suppose  if  we  ever  did  get  married  like  other 
people,  we  should  have  to  hire  an  empty  house,  or 
a  secondhand  'bus,  to  start  from.  I  can't  dress 
and  have  a  wedding  breakfast  in  the  street  very 
well — although  I  don't  suppose  you'd  mind  that." 
And  George  buttoned  his  coat  with  the  same  re- 
solute air  of  secretiveness. 

"  Believe  me,  when  I'm  married,"  he  told  her, 
**  I  shan't  make  any  more  to-do  about  it  than  in 
buyin'  a  new  pair  o*  boots.  It's  a  private  affair, 
like  a  bath.  The  people  who  make  the  most 
helter-skelter  and  fuss  are  generally  the  ones  who 
have  to  go  off  and  hide  'emselves  for  the  longest 
honeymoon — that's  sense,  ain't  it?  Whether  I'm 
married  or  not,  is  nothin'  to  do  with  anyone  else 
in  Barkin*.  I  don't  tell  everyone  what  I've  got 
for  breakfast.  If  anyone  knocks  at  my  door, 
and  finds  a  woman  there  they  didn't  expect,  that's 
my  bis'ness,  not  theirs.  The  world's  ate  up  with 
hanky-panky,  and  that's  the  fact.  I  know  all 
about   these   peacocks   struttin*   off   to   church   in 


266  LOW    SOCIETY 

carriages,    and   then   borrowin'   a    fiver    a    month' 
afterwards.     You  wait." 

**  I  can  wait,"  said  Selina,  half  sadly.  **  I  may 
be  allowed,  I  suppose,  to  think  there  doesn't  seem 
much  to  wait  for." 

**  No  ;  only  a  home  and  a  husband.  If  you  want 
any  tinsel  and  limelight,  that'll  last  about  three 
hours,  you  must  find  someone  else — young 
Sanders,  we'll  say.  Are  you  comin'  on  or  goin* 
back?" 

Selina  went  on.  They  came  abreast  of  Man- 
dalay  Gardens,  and  paused  in  a  shadowy  patch  of 
the  main  road.  Away  across  the  stretch  of  field- 
land — or  mud -land — toward  Beckton  and  the  river, 
the  clearness  of  the  stars  and  moon  gave  an  effect 
as  of  light  from  many  silver  lamps  hung  above 
earth. 

**  Yes,  there's  someone  or  other  lookin'  up  at 
the  house,"  Baversham  said.  **  It's  a  tall  woman. 
Who's  she,  I  wonder?  Up  to  somethin',  as  she's 
a  woman,  I'll  be  bound.  The  bedroom  light's 
lit,  so  he's  still  in  there.     Walk  on  a  few  yards." 

They  did  so,  and  paused  again,  looking  down 
the  site  of  the  new  block  in  the  rear.  The  same 
silvery  light,  of  course,  illumined  this  nebulous 
patch,  made  more  sharply -clear  where  the  shadows 
of  the  houses  cut  into  it. 

**  Don't  move,"  Baversham  said,  reflectively. 
**  If  that  ain't  Casswade  down  there,  I'll  eat  my 
hat.  Wish  I  had  the  pluck  to  step  up  and  hand 
him  a  Chris 'mus  card  for  *  Mrs.  Casswade.'  What 
would  he  do,  d'you  think  ?  " 

**  Stab  you,"  Selina  replied,  without  hesitation  ; 
"  You'll  get  into  trouble  as  it  is^  I'm  thinking. 


LOW    SOCIETY  267 

Don't  tell  me  he  hasn't  got  an  idea  who's  behind 
it  all." 

"  I  don't  doubt  it,"  said  George  ;  "  but  he  won't 
give  it  out  to  Barkin'.     What's  he  up  to?  " 

Apparently  nothing.  Not  even  Baversham's 
keen  eyes  could  make  out  more.  It  seemed  fan- 
ciful that  Mr.  Casswade  should  leave  convivial 
surroundings  to  come  and  take  a  sentimental  peep 
at  his  inchoate  premises  at  this  hour  ;  but  there 
he  was,  standing  back,  the  outward  curve  of  his 
figure  just  projecting  into  the  moonlight — with 
the  air  of  a  gamekeeper  watching  a  suspicious 
spot  in  the  covert. 

"  Wonderin*  how  he  can  knock  another  inch 
off  the  size,  and  shove  another  ten  pounds  on  the 
price,"  opined  Baversham.  **  That  wants  a  bit  o* 
figurin'  out,  I  admit." 

They  moved  back,  and  along  Mandalay  Gar- 
dens. There  was  no  one  outside  Number  Nine 
now.  Baversham  lifted  his  hand  to  the  knocker, 
and  paused. 

"  Hardly  like  to,  somehow,"  he  said.  *'  What's 
it  mean  when  you  feel  a  bit  funny,  like,  as  if 
somethin'  was  goin*  to  happen?  " 

"  Generally  means  you've  done  something,  or 
'  done  '  somebody,"  said  Selina. 

And  George  knocked  firmly  at  once,  to  show  his 
contempt . 


CHAPTER    XXIII 

The  door  opened.  Ella  stood  there.  For  a 
moment  she  looked  at  them  as  with  eyes  that, 
after  long  weeping,  saw  nothing  clearly — a  look 
that  made  George  squeeze  Selina's  hand  furtively 
but  hard,  as  to  justify  his  premonition.  Then  her 
quiet  little  voice  sounded. 

"  Yes,  come  in — I  am  pleased  to  see  you." 

"  I  know  you  are,  or  we  wouldn't  have  come,** 
Baversham  said,  bluntly.  They  had  stepped  in, 
and  he  was  twisting  his  bowler  while  Selina  tugged 
at  her  handkerchief.  "  Lovely  night,  Mrs.  Hun- 
gerford  —  looks  like  a  Chris'mus  card  out  o* 
doors."  He  glanced  up  the  stairs,  and  sank  his 
voice.  "  Don't  trouble  to  tell  him,  if  he's 
not " 

**  Go  up  to  him — and  look  at  him — and  see 
what  you  think,"  Ella  answered,  with  resolute 
pauses  to  stiffen  her  voice. 

"  Hold  my  hat,"  George  muttered  to  Selina. 
He  went  close,  but  did  not  give  her  the  hat^ 
"  Why  don't  you  be  a  woman,  and  say  somethin*, 
or  do  somethin'?"  he  almost  hissed,  from  the 
side  of  his  mouth. 

He  went  up  the  stairs,  feeling  a  little  out  of 
place.  This  feeling  strengthened  so  that  he  forgot 
to  tap,  but  pushed  at  the  door  and  tiptoed  in. 
He  held  his  breath  and  ruminated.  The  figure  on 
the   bed,    its    face   turned,    lay    unnervingly    stilL 


LOW    SOCIETY  269 

Gradually,  with  little  coughs,  he  worked  his  way 
round  the  foot  of  the  bedstead,  and  peered  along. 
It  startled  him  to  find  that  Hungerford's  great 
dark  eyes  were  looking  straight  back  at  him,  and 
that  Hungerford  was  waiting. 

*'  Why,  chummie  I  "  Baversham  blurted  out, 
huskily.  **  What's  it  all  about?  What  have  they 
been  doin'  to  you?  " 

Hungerford  slid  a  long  white  hand  across  the 
coverlet  toward  him,  and  lifted  it  twice  slowly, 
as  to  indicate  that  he  could  hear  all,  and  under- 
stand all,  without  being  able  to  answer.  What 
struck  Baversham  most  was  the  fact  that  even  his 
lips  shared  the  prevailing  pallor,  and  that  his  eyes 
had  a  velvety  blackness  in  contrast.  There  was  a 
chair  beside  the  bed  ;  Baversham  sat  down,  got  a 
quick  grip  of  the  hand  on  the  coverlet,  and  looked 
away,  till  the  hailstones  had  done  forming  and 
clicking  and  melting  in  his  throat.  And  Hunger- 
ford watched  him,  and  seemed  to  know,  and 
twitched  his  imprisoned  fingers  in  encouragement. 

"If  I'd  ha'  known  I  "  Baversham  said,  looking 
suddenly  round.  "  Why,  I've  been  almost  past 
the  house  every  night  for  a  week.     My  word,  I'd 

ha' "     He  coughed,  to  smother  a  choke  ;  and 

bent.  **  Don't  you  worry.  I'm  comin'  every 
blessed  night,  to  see  if  I  can't  do  somethin*. 
Whereabouts  is  the  pain?  " 

Hungerford  seemed  to  indicate  his  throat. 
Almost  he  smiled,  as  Baversham,  with  quite  a  pro- 
fessional concern,  breathed  upon  one  hand,  to 
warm  it,  placed  it  critically  on  the  part  affected, 
and  felt  around  it.  He  even  went  so  far  as  to  stoop 
and  listen.     And  it  seemed  to  him  there  was  a 


270  LOW    SOCIETY 

sound  as  of  waves  draining  down  a  pebbly  beach 
at  a  great  distance.  He  tried  to  diagnose  this 
phenomenon. 

"  Doctor  been  to-day?  "  he  queried.  **  What's 
he  say?     Don't  mind  tellin'  me.     I'm  thinkin*  of 

her.     If  it's  lungs "     He  looked  away  again, 

and  sucked  in  his  lips  tightly. 

Hungerford  caught  at  his  coat,  drew  him  down, 
and  managed  to  make  himself  audible. 

**  Not  yet.  He  hopes  not.  Only  bronchial 
tubes.  Say  you — say  you  found  me  far  better 
than  you  expected." 

"  Right  I  "  Baversham  breathed  it  fervently, 
after  a  puzzled  stare.  **  I  know — I  see.  Why,- 
there  ain't  much  the  matter  with  you  after  all,  is 
there?  I'm  surprised  !  "  he  said,  loudly,  as  with 
the  sudden  idea  that  she  might  be  listening  out 
there.  "  Still,  you'd  better  not  go  out  for  a  day 
or  so.  That'll  do  it,"  he  added,  sinking  back  to 
the  whisper.  Apparently  this  was  his  best  **  bed- 
side "  manner. 

Then  an  uncertain  pause,  during  which  Hunger - 
ford  lay  and  watched  him  with  a  half -unconscious 
intentness . 

Into  the  silence  Baversham  seemed  to  read 
something  that  might  or  might  not  have  been  re- 
flected in  the  other  man's  thoughts.  He  twisted 
his  legs,  bit  his  nails,  and  looked  most  uncom- 
fortable in  his  transparent  effort  to  appear  merely 
buried  in  reflection.  When  he  spoke  again,  it 
was  in  a  haphazard,  jerky  manner,  as  if  he  could 
bear  himself  no  longer. 

"Seen — seen  anythin'  o*  Casswade  lately?" 

Hungerford    looked    startled.      Then   the    faint 


LOW    SOCIETY  271 

smile  lit  his  face  again — either  at  the  question 
itself,  or  at  the  quaint  familiarity  of  its  expres- 
sion. Finally  his  eyes  closed  and  his  lips  set  in 
a  way  that  Baversham  could  not  quite  understand. 

"And  don't  want  to,  eh?"  Baversham  jerked 
out  again,  clearing  his  throat.  '*  I  know  you're 
one  who'd  have  to  speak  of  a  man  as  you  find  him  ; 
but  for  my  own  part — a  bit  extra  strange  that 
night  when  I  dropped  in  unexpected,  wasn't  he  ?  A 
bit  more  than  strange,  wasn't  he?  " 

Hungerford  slowly  raised  himself  a  little,  and 
seemed  to  listen.  Then  he  motioned.  After  a 
couple  of  wrong  guesses  Baversham  lifted  down  a 
jacket  from  a  peg.  Hungerford  groped  in  the 
breast  pocket  and  drew  out  a  folded  letter.  Even 
that  small  effort  exhausted  him  ;  he  fell  back. 
Baversham,  his  breath  held,  stared  at  the  letter 
lying  on  the  bed,  but  seemed  determined  not  to 
touch  it — until  the  other's  limp  fingers  gave  it  a 
flick.  Then  slowly  he  unfolded  it.  There  were 
only  a  few  lines  of  writing, — a  laborious  scrawl, 
but  representing  the  very  best  effort  of  the  writer. 
Date — November   20th. 

*•  Sir, 

**  This  is  to  give  you  one  clear  month's, 
notice  that  I  intend  to  call  in  my  loan,  as  per 
terms  agreed  upon  in  your  signed  Note -of -hand. 
I  shall  be  glad  to  receive  from  you  the  sum  of 
Twenty  -  five  pounds  advanced  thereon,  with  a 
quarter's  interest  at  the  rate  of  five  per  cent. 
Allowing  for  the  usual  three  days'  grace,  the  same 
should  be  in  my  hands  not  later  than  6  p.m.  on 
December  24th  next. 

*'  Yours  faithfully,  M.  Casswade." 


272  LOW    SOCIETY 

For  a  minute  or  so  Baversham  did  not  look  up. 
He  fluttered  the  paper  several  times  as  if  to  brush 
away  a  fly  or  other  impediment  to  clear  vision. 
Perhaps  he  had  not  from  the  first  suspected  Hun- 
gerford  to  be  a  man  versed  in  business  intricacies 
of  this  nature  ;  but  the  crude  laxity  of  this  par- 
ticular financial  arrangement  seemed  to  leave  him 
incredulous  and  thick  of  speech. 

"Is  this — is  this  the  loan  you  told  me  of? 
Didn't  you — mean  to  say  you  didn't  have  a  proper 
agreement  and  time -limit  made  out,  same  as  you 
did  for  the  house -purchase  money?" 

Hungerford  pulled  him  close  again.  **  I  see 
now  —  I  didn't  then.  I  trusted  him,  without 
thinking." 

Baversham  sat  back,  with  a  deep  intake  of 
breath.  His  mouth  opened  again  and  again,  as 
if  he  wanted  to  say,  "  Oh,  you  fool — you  fool  I  " 
and  could  not  in  very  decency.  He  could  only 
go  on  staring  at  the  letter — until  of  a  sudden 
it  was  plucked  from  him  by  trembling  white 
fingers . 

He  gasped.  Then  he  understood.  There  had 
sounded  a  creak  on  the  staircase.  Ella  was  not 
to  know  of  Casswade's  foreclosure. 

He  stumbled  up,  thrust  it  into  the  pocket,  and 
hung  the  coat  on  its  peg  again.  Then,  with  the 
same  awkward  uncertainty  that  had  marked  his 
bearing  throughout,  he  swooped  down  to  mutter 
a  "  Good -night — must  go  !  God  bless  you,  old 
chap — bear  up  !  "  Hungerford  was  not  quite  sure, 
but  it  seemed  to  him  that  Baversham  was  so  far 
confused  or  upset  as  to  kiss  him.  Then  the  still- 
ness  reigned  again.      Baversham  had   seized  his 


LOW    SOCIETY  273 

hat  and  was  gone.  It  seemed  to  have  been  a 
series  of  abrupt  rushes. 

Ella  was  waiting  expectantly  on  the  third  stair 
below.  He  had  just  time  to  pull  himself  together, 
mentally  and  physically.  Then  she  had  touched 
his  sleeve,  and  was  looking  into  his  face.  It  was 
her  way  of  asking  a  question. 

**  Don't  you  worry.  He*s  all  right  1  "  Baver- 
sham  said,  loudly. 

"  All  right?  "  She  put  her  hands  together,  in 
the  longing  to  believe.   **  All  right  ?  "  she  repeated. 

**  Well,  what  I  mean — he  might  be  worse.  Oh, 
a  deal  worse  !  "  he  added,  with  airy  con- 
viction. **  Of  course,  he*s  not  what  you'd  call 
a  trained  bull -fighter  at  any  time  ;  but  still, 
what  with  the  medicine,  and  you  lookin'  after 
him !  " 

Ella  looked  up  the  stairs,  then  put  one  arm  to 
the  wall  and  leaned  her  head  against  it.  He  saw 
silent  quiver  after  quiver  run  down  the  little 
aproned  figure,  and  his  effort  to  control  himself 
sensibly  was  almost  as  keen  as  hers.  He  wanted 
to  lay  a  hand  on  her  shoulder  cheerfully,  but 
his  normal  cool  resource  was  gone  to-night  ;  and, 
besides,  Selina  was  standing  there. 

"  Bear  up  !  "  was  all  he  could  whisper  again. 
••I'm  not  far  off,  mind." 

He  went  into  the  kitchen  to  scribble  his  address 
on  a  slip  of  paper  for  safety's  sake.  This  he 
turned  to  pin  to  Ella's  fringed  strip  of  drapery 
along  the  mantel -shelf.  Already  pinned  there 
were  two  •'  demand  "  notes  for  taxes  in  advance. 
It  struck  him  simultaneously  that  Hungerford's 
vacant  berth  in  the  City  office  was  probably  filled 

L.S.  T 


274  LOW    SOCIETY 

by  now — Hungerford  had  been  an  absentee  nearly 
three  weeks. 

As  he  emerged,  Ella  was  going  up  the  stair.  He 
felt  glad,  and  made  straight  for  the  front  door, 
just  beckoning  to  Selina.  She  could  stare  and 
wonder  as  much  as  she  liked. 

She  continued  to  do  so  until  he  had  dived  down 
the  first  of  the  quiet  side -turnings  that  would  bring 
them  out  beyond  the  more  crowded  part  of  Bark- 
ing.    Then  he  drew  up. 

"  I  can't  come  no  farther  to-night,"  he  said, 
abruptly.     "  Straight,  I  can't." 

"No  farther?"  Selina  repeated,  going  cold. 
"  Why,  what's  the  matter?    What  have  I  done?  " 

He  would  not  answer.  He  began  to  roll  a 
cigarette.  He  finished  it,  lit  a  match — dropped 
it,  gave  a  series  of  gurgles,  and  was  leaning 
against  the  brick  wall,  his  face  hidden  against 
his  arm.  An  instant  of  unspeakable  awe,  and  then 
Selina  knew  that  he  was  weeping  audibly.  An 
instant  more,  and  her  arms  were  all  around  him, 
in  the  open  street.  Strangely  enough,  she  had 
never  thought  so  much  of  him  as  she  did  in  this 
moment. 

"  What  is  it — what  is  it  ?  "  she  sobbed  in  turn. 
**  If  you've  done  anything,  tell  me  right  out.  I 
don't  care  what  it  is — stealing  or  anything — so 
long  as  you  tell  me  1  ** 

"  No — no — it's  nothin',"  George  rattled,  putting 
her  away  to  get  breath.  "  I  couldn't — I  couldn't 
tell  him  it  was  me  that  wrote  that  letter  to  Cass- 
wade  invitin'  him  there  that  night  like  that — and 
now — and  now — get  away — that's  all  |  '* 


CHAPTER    XXIV 

Christmas  Eve  of  that  year  fell  upon  a  Satur- 
day. Incidentally,  Christmas  Eve  of  that  year  was 
a  day  of  mixed  sensations  —  unconnected  with 
Yuletide — for  more  persons  than  one,  including 
Mr.  Matt  Casswade. 

The  cold  snap  had  held.  There  was  the  same 
still  and  rarefied  atmosphere,  like  wine  to  the 
nerves.  At  six  p.m.  the  lights  of  Barking  Town 
sent  up  a  furnace -like  glare  to  meet  the  brilliant 
blaze  in  the  heavens,  and  the  shops  that  displayed 
things  to  eat  drew  like  a  magnet.  Children  in 
battalions  flitted  from  window  to  window,  breath- 
ing upon  each  glass  as  long  as  the  proprietor  could 
stand  it.  Hatless  mothers  with  tightly-drawn 
shawls — the  inevitable  baby  .clutched  beneath — 
were  drawn  out  in  troops  from  their  obscurity  in 
back  streets  to  look  once  again  at  the  piled  pro- 
fusion— the  mounds  of  gleaming  fruit,  the  stacks 
of  iced  cake,  the  crackers  and  conical  fir-trees — 
and  all  that  keeps  each  Christmas  green  in  memory 
until  the  next  arrives. 

Even  Mr.  Shadd,  up  in  Tamplin  Street,  was  kept 
busy  all  day  weighing  and  serving  out  small  lots. 
The  famous  halting  **  S— s— s— "  and  '*  F— f— f— " 
had  to  be  clipped  perceptibly  to  allow  of  time  for 
the  mutual  remark  that  trade  had  never  been  so 
blighted   and   Christmas   so   strangely   depressing 

T   2 


276  LOW    SOCIETY 

within  the  memory  of  living  man.  Particularly 
he  had  to  cope  with  a  run  on  bacon  **  pieces  ** 
for  customers  who  were  relying  on  Providence 
for  the  fowl  or  something  "to  go  with  'em.** 
Facetiously  intended  or  not,  Mr.  Shadd  thought 
it  discreet  to  reply  each  time  that  it  was  no 
use  relying  on  him  as  an  alternative,  as  he  was 
already  opening  negotiations  with  the  workhouse 
authorities, 

Mr.  Casswade,  exceptionally,  had  no  seasonable 
appetite.  It  had  been  dwindling  for  weeks  ;  he 
had  reached  the  point  at  which,  as  Miss  PugH 
warned  him  in  roundabout,  respectable  terms,  he 
must  be  subsisting  **  on  his  own  fat."  But  even 
this  sinister  reference  failed  to  arouse  him  from 
his  brooding  apathy.  He  didn't  care  a  blooming 
jot  if  he  fell  down  dead,  he  said  ;  and  Miss  Pugh 
could  almost  believe  it.  Some  subtle  change 
seemed  at  work  in  Mr.  Casswade.  Whether  his 
thirst,  too,  had  treacherously  left  him  as  rats  leave 
a  sinking  vessel,  nobody  was  in  a  position  to  tell  ; 
but  the  apoplectic  bulge  of  his  cheeks  lately  re- 
sembled most  a  puffy,  putty -like  bag  of  flesh 
hung  under  each  eye,  the  fishy  stare  in  the  eyes 
themselves  being  even  more  marked.  Strangest 
of  all  was  the  fact  that  Miss  Pugh  was  still  retained 
on  his  premises.  His  passion  seemed  to  be  held 
at  bay  by  the  acute  reflection  that  Miss  Pugh  would 
be  likely  to  keep  her  silence  as  to  certain  events 
just  as  long  as  he  kept  his.  As  each  mysterious, 
maddening  reminder  arrived  through  the  letter- 
box, he  set  his  teeth  hard  and  thrust  the  post -card 
into  the  fire,  while  Miss  Pugh  fled  to  her  room 
for  a  hysterical  laughing-fit — not  wholly  of  per- 


LOW    SOCIETY  277 

verted  humour.  In  short,  Mr.  Casswade  seemed 
to  be  biding  his  time.  Consequently,  she  had  to 
bide  hers. 

At  five  p.m.  he  had  gulped  down  three  cups  of 
tea,  pushed  his  food  back,  and  risen  heavily  from 
the  armchair  into  which  his  bulk  had  worked  a 
deep,  vast  hollow. 

"Going  out — again?"  breathed  Miss  Pugh, 
almost  timidly.  She  had  seen  him  glancing  at 
and  listening  to  his  watch  every  few  minutes. 

"  Going  out  again,"  replied  Mr.  Casswade,  with 
unnecessary  emphasis.  "  And,"  he  added,  "  don't 
ask  me  what  time  I  shall  be  home,  for  I  don't 
know  and  shan't  guess." 

"  Only  I  thought,  it  being  Christmas  Eve,  in  a 
sense "  Miss  Pugh  rested  her  cheek  thought- 
fully upon  one  finger,  and  waited. 

"  What  about  it?  "  he  demanded,  pausing  sus- 
piciously. **  Any  different  from  any  other  evenin*  ? 
Eh?" 

*'  Oh,  no,"  she  said,  hurriedly.  '*  Only,  it  seems 
a  little  unnatural  in  a  way " 

"  Well,  I  am  unnatural,"  said  Mr.  Casswade. 
"  Bloomin'  unnatural  jest  now,  if  anyone  wants  to 
know.  So  that's  all  right."  And  he  went  omin- 
ously out. 

Perhaps  the  biggest  men  are  not  the  bravest. 
Mr.  Casswade 's  way  lay  to  the  left,  but,  for  the 
third  time  that  day,  he  temporised  and  turned  in 
the  other  direction  first  of  all.  Admittedly  some 
men  require  a  deal  of  reflection  prior  to  any 
delicate  enterprise  :  Mr.  Casswade  required  only 
a  preliminary  drink  or  two. 

"What,   again?"    exclaimed   the    bright    bar- 


278  LOW    SOCIETY 

lady,  glancing  up  at  the  holly -wreathed  clock  in 
clever  surprise.  "  It's  unkind  of  me  to  humour 
you,  that  it  is  ;  you  won't  enjoy  your  share  this 
evening  a  bit.     Bitter  in  a  tankard?  " 

"  That's  what  I  said,"  he  rejoined,  acidly. 

"  Ah,"  she  sighed,  "if  I  charged  for  compli- 
ments, as  some  women  do,  I  shouldn't  make  much 
out  of  you." 

Mr.  Casswade  lifted  a  distorted  face  from  the 
pewter  pot,  "  It's  a  compliment  to  you  to  drink 
your  beer,"  he  muttered.  "  For  Gawd's  sake, 
what  d'you  put  in  it  at  holiday  times  ?  Bad 
vinegar  or  what?      Cold   poison,   it   is." 

She  was  both  shocked  and  sceptical,  and  showed 
it  by  silent  aloofness.  She  had  berries  and  flash- 
ing steel  ornaments  twined  in  her  hair,  and  the 
entire  bar  looked  rich  and  Christmassy  with  the 
tinted  glow  upon  its  polished  glass  and  metal 
array  ;  this  fact  alone  should  have  atoned  for  any 
fanciful  shortcomings  in  the  liquor  supplied.  All 
the  same,  Mr.  Casswade  was  a  client  worth 
"  nursing."  Presently  she  leaned  over  the  bar 
toward  him. 

"  I'll  forgive  you,"  she  said,  sorrowfully.  "  It's 
a  man's  privilege  always  to  be  forgiven  by  the 
ladies.  No  jokes,  though — we  had  an  argument 
here  the  other  night  :  how  much  do  you  suppose 
you  do  drink  on  your  best  days?  " 

"  Dunno,"  he  answered,  shortly.  "  Might  be  a 
quart,  might  be  four — or,  again,  it  might  be  a  lot." 

"  Oh,  well —  I  "  she  said,  as  though  she  only 
objected  to  excess.  "  Nine -tenths  of  all  we  eat 
is  liquid  really,  isn't  it  ? — so  your  little  extra 
amount  doesn't  make  much  difference." 


LOW    SOCIETY  '279 

**  I'd  like  to  be  a  bit  thinner  again — that's  all," 
he  said,  glancing  at  his  frontal  avoirdupois  as  if 
he  wished  someone  would  come  and  lop  it  level 
unawares.  It  was  a  rare,  unexpected  bit  of  con- 
fidence ;  and  she  treated  it  accordingly. 

*'  Oh,  don't  say  that  I  A  thin,  miserable  man 
doesn't  get  half  the  respect  and  attention  a  man 
of  weight  does." 

"I'd  risk  it,"  he  said,  desperately,  taking  an- 
other drink.  "I'd  chance  all  about  bein'  miser- 
able.    I  can't  run — that's  what  I  mean." 

"  But  why  do  you  want  to  run?  "  she  pursued, 
in  concern.     And  he  glared  at  her. 

"  Don't  be  silly.  Don't  be  idiotic.  Course,  I 
don't  want  to  run — I'm  not  a  bloomin*  footballer, 
I  mean,  I  can't  run  if  I  wanted  to,  or  had  to. 
Ain't  that  plain  enough?  " 

It  was  plain  enough  for  the  bar -lady,  anyhow. 
She  craned  out  and  tapped  him  playfully. 

"  Oh,  you  sly  I  Blind  man's  buff  to-morrow 
night,  eh?  I  hope  she'll  catch  you— if  she  hasn't 
done  so  already  I  " 

"  Who?  "  he  demanded,  taken  aback. 

"Who?  Why,  the  future  Mrs.  Casswade,  of 
course.  Oh,  we've  heard  all  about  it.  Of  course, 
I  wouldn't  ask  for  a  bit  of  wedding-cake." 

Mr.  Casswade  did  not  answer.  His  face  took 
on  a  series  of  changes,  the  final  fixed  expression 
being  of  such  a  nature  that  she  was  glad  to  turn 
away  and  rattle  the  glasses  as  an  excuse.  Posi- 
tive relief  was  afforded  by  the  entrance  of  another 
habitue  of  the  bar. 

"Why,  hullo  I  How's  Mr.  Casswade?"  he 
asked,    with   unsuspecting   warmth.      "  My   word, 


286  LOW    SOCIETY 

you're  looking  better  than  ever.  Talk  about 
Christmas  weather,  eh  ?  Seen  the  sky  ?  Never 
seen  such  a  sky  in  my  time." 

It  was  a  mercy  he  had  not  slapped  Mr.  Cass- 
wade  on  the  back.  "  Blow  the  sky  1  "  said  Mr. 
Casswade,  in  a  concentrated,  deadly  voice. 
**  Curse  the  sky,  and  you  along  of  it,"  he  added. 

He  threw  the  remainder  of  his  beer  deliberately 
across  the  floor,  and  stumped  out. 

*'  Mad  ?  "  gasped  the  other  man,  to  the  bar -lady. 

**  Married — so  they  say,"  she  replied,  with  a 
pitying  upthrow  of  her  hands.  "  What  a 
mistake  1  " 

A  few  steps  farther  in  the  wrong  direction  Mr. 
Casswade  took,  maintaining  very  decently  the  slow 
roll  that  indicated  wealth  and  importance.  Then 
the  increasing  glow  and  hubbub  seemed  to  tell 
upon  his  nerves.  The  failure  of  his  previous 
drink  fully  justified  another  ;  but  to  his  disgust  an 
unprecedented  sensation  of  nausea  rose  against 
even  the  thought.  This  was  the  final  straw.  An 
electric  car  was  passing.  Mr.  Casswade  boarded 
it,  got  inside,  trod  deliberately  on  the  toes  of  all 
those  passengers  who  did  not  instantly  withdraw 
them,  and  crashed  down  into  the  farthest  corner 
seat,  very  nearly  blotting  out  of  being  a  small  boy 
tucked  in  to  avoid  payment  of  fare. 

"  Ought  to  be  at  home  and  in  bed,"  said  Mr. 
Casswade  to  the  indignant  mother.  "  If  you  will 
have  kids,  look  after  'em." 

Five  minutes  later,  he  was  set  down  within  a 
few  paces  of  the  New  Eden  estate. 

Oddly   enough,   as    early  as    four   o'clock   that 


LOW    SOCIETY  281 

afternoon,  George  Baversham  had  knocked  fur- 
tively at  Number  Nine,  Mandalay  Gardens.  He 
was  out  of  breath,  and  carried  so  many  small 
bags  and  parcels  that  he  had  the  look  of  an 
amateur  Santa  Glaus.  Hungerford's  Ella,  an- 
swering the  third  subdued  rat-tat,  stood  as  in  faint 
surprise — while  yet,  in  truth,  her  faculties  were  in 
the  numbed  condition  when  no  detail  seems  sin- 
gular, because  of  the  muffled  unreality  over  the 
whole.  And,  of  course,  Baversham  had  knocked 
in  the  same  furtive  way  every  evening,  if  only  to 
put  a  quiet  question  and  walk  away  again. 

**  It's  all  right,"  he  said.  He  had  entered  and 
wiped  his  boots.  "  I've  brought  a  few  things — a 
grape  or  two — I  thought  you  mightn't  have  been 
able  to  get  out." 

**  Oh,  thank  you — thank  you  1  "  Ella  said,  with 
an  unconscious  little  choke.  '*  Everyone  is  so 
kind  I  " 

"Everyone?"  repeated  Baversham,  abruptly. 
**  Who's  that,  then  ?    Anyone  been  to-day  ?  " 

"  No,  only  the  doctor."  She  looked  at  him,  and 
tried  to  smile,  wondering  what  she  had  said,  and 
whether  she  was  asleep  or  awake.  "  I  mean,  it 
is  so  good  of  you  to  come,  and  to  think 
of  him " 

"  We'll  talk  about  that  afterwards,  if  you  don't 
mind,"  he  put  in.  He  led  the  way  himself  into 
the  bijou  rear  parlour,  and  carefully  deposited  his 
assortment  of  parcels  on  the  table.  '*  There,  no, 
we'll  have  it  out  at  once,"  he  added,  the  half-light 
in  here  lending  him  courage.  "  There's  jest 
fifteen  shillin's'  worth  here  ;  and  that's  an  end  of 
it.     If  I  can't  give  a  little  Chris 'mus  present  when 


282  LOW    SOCIETY 

and  how  I  like,  it's  funny.  And  what's  more,  I'm 
goin'  to  stay  a  little  while  ;  and  then  —  then  it 
won't  seem  quite  so  lonely  for  you  or  for  me,  will 
it?" 

"  What— what  about  Miss  Shadd  ?  "  Ella  whis- 
pered, with  a  tense  effort  to  come  out  of  the  hyp- 
notic detachment  which  made  plain  George  Baver- 
sham  appear  in  the  light  of  the  benevolent,  fur- 
coated  old  gentleman  in  the  children's  Christmas 
fairy -play. 

"  Oh,  blow  her!  '^  he  said,  with  sufficient  blunt- 
ness  to  break  the  spell.  "  She's  all  right.  Told 
her  I'd  meet  her  about  nine  o'clock,  if  I  feel  like  it. 
Ain't  it  cold  !  "  He  blew  upon  his  stiffened 
fingers,  and  then  artfully  recollected.  "  Here, 
what  am  I  thinking  of?  Real  stuff,  this  is— port 
— none  o'  your  '  fine,  fruity,  fam'ly  '  at  one -and - 
two  a  bottle.  Got  a  corkscrew,  Mrs.  Hungerford? 
'Cause,  whether  you  like  it  or  not,  you've  got  to 
have  a  drain  with  me  before  we  go  another  step. 
....  All  right,  you  run  back  up  to  him — I'll 
find  everythin'  I  want."  She  had  not  moved  or 
appeared  to  comprehend.  "  Go  on — see  if  he 
wants  anythin' — tell  him  I'll  be  up  in  a  minute 
with  a  bit  o'  mistletoe." 

She  obeyed,  like  a  child.  Baversham.  had  a  way 
with  him — a  quaint  but  irresistible  knack  of  estab- 
lishing confidence  when  he  so  wished. 

When  she  descended  again,  only  ten  minutes 
later,  Baversham  was  well  through  with  a  stealthy 
transformation.  The  gas  was  lit,  a  chunk  of 
wood  blazed  in  the  fireplace,  and  a  highly-coloured 
Christmas  motto  hung  from  the  mirror  above  it. 
He  had  broken  one  small  glass  in  his  haste,  but 


LOW    SOCIETY  283 

two  others  stood  waiting,  filled  with  clear,  still, 
ruby  liquor.  All  Ella's  stock  of  kitchen  plates 
appeared  to  have  been  utilised,  and  stood  in  rows, 
containing  fruit,  biscuits,  chocolates,  and  even 
nuts.  If  he  had  poured  out  a  pint  of  winkles,  it 
would  not  have  seemed  altogether  strange. 

A  hand  to  her  temples,  pale  Ella  stood  and 
looked.  For  days  she  had  gone  dry -eyed  ;  but  it 
seemed  as  if  the  tears  were  coming  now.  Baver- 
sham  reached  for  the  port  hastily. 

"  Steady,  now,"  he  said,  with  deep  warning. 
"  Keep  steady — like  rock  !  "  and  he  was  steering 
the  glass  to  her  lips  before  she  realised.  Two  or 
three  mechanical  sips  she  took  ;  then  he  was  wise 
enough  to  withdraw  the  glass  and  snatch  up  a 
biscuit.  "  Now  this  ! — and  you'll  feel  tons  better. 
And  here's  love  and  long  life  to  all  of  us  1  " 

He  drained  down  his  own,  nearly  choked,  and 
set  to  work  again  on  his  arrangement  of  the  table. 
Funny  thing,  he  muttered  repeatedly,  if  he  couldn't 
do  what  he  liked  with  his  own  money  at  Christmas- 
time. 

"There,"  he  said,  at  length.  "How's  that? 
I  only  wish  he  could  hop  down  and  have  a  look  ; 
do  him  more  good  than  all  the  med'cine.  As  he 
can't,  I'll  hop  up.     Shan't  be  a  minnit." 

This  he  said  with  careless  design — to  suit  his 
own  ends,  and  because  she  had  the  look  of  a 
woman  best  not  left  alone  too  long.  And,  almost 
ere  Ella  had  time  to  rise  from  her  knees  after  a 
mechanical  tidying-up  of  the  fireplace,  he  was 
coming  hastily  dovm  on  tiptoe  again.  There  was 
certainly  something  in  his  manner  that,  at  any 
other  time,  must  have  set  her  wondering. 


284  LOW    SOCIETY 

"  Seems  drowsy  ;  I  wouldn't  spoil  that  on  any 
account,"  he  said,  as  he  took  off  his  overcoat. 
*'  The  doctor  was  right  enough — he's  a  lot  better. 
Now,  look  here,  if  you'd  like  to  have  a  nap  or 
anythin'  o'  that,  I  shall  be  all  right.  I've  got 
my  paper,  and  my  'bacca.  If  anyone  calls,  I'll 
answer  'em.  And  I  shall  hear  if  he  knocks  on  the 
floor.  I've  told  him — he  knows.  Now,  do  I  If 
you  won't,  you  don't  trust  me,  that's  plain." 

**  I  do,"  she  whispered.    "  Oh,  I  do." 

She  stood  a  moment,  looking  before  her,  and 
then  went  out.  For  a  while,  listening  hard,  he 
heard  her  moving  to  and  fro  in  the  kitchen.  Then 
she  was  going  slowly  once  more  up  the  staircase^ 
and  then  all  was  problematically  quiet. 

"  Now,  then  1  "  he  said,  as  if  a  load  had 
dropped  from  him.  "  Now,  then,  I'm  here — I've 
done  it.  If  anyone  calls — I'll  hear  'em  before  they 
knock." 

He  sat  on,  puffing  steadily  at  his  cigarettes^ 
and  stirring  now  and  then  to  look  at  the  clock  or 
glance  around  him.  Outwardly  cool  and  common- 
place, there  was  pent  within  him  a  sort  of  dull 
ecstasy  that  he  had  neither  the  imaginativeness 
nor  the  desire  to  let  loose  for  analysis.  He  was 
here,  according  to  premeditation  ;  but  he  did  not 
know  what  would  happen.     Queer  position  1 

The  almost  total  absence  of  sound  gradually 
induced  a  drug-like  effect,  and  seemed  to  carry 
him  farther  and  farther  away  from  the  world 
ringing  him  about.  A  series  of  little  pictures, 
bioscopic-like,  passed  before  him.  He  saw  Hun- 
gerford  lying  in  the  room  above,  with  the  long  thin 
fingers  reaching  across  the  coverlet  ;  he  saw  Mr. 


LOW    SOCIETY  285 

Shadd  wiping  his  hands  on  the  greasy,  long-ser- 
vice cloth  below  the  counter  away  in  Tamplin 
Street — and  Selina  leaning  breathlessly  over  the 
balustrade,  to  see  if  the  way  below  was  clear  for 
a  dash  ;  he  saw  Barking  High  Street,  with  its 
blazing  shops,  and  the  clanging  electric  cars  forg- 
ing a  slow  way  through  the  crowds.  And  then, 
after  a  brief  blank,  Mr.  Casswade's  figure  bulked 
on  the  mental  sheet — and  the  motionless  watcher's 
fingers  clenched  and  strained.  It  was  coming 
toward  him — bigger  and  bigger — toward  the  house 
in  Mandalay  Gardens 

What  was  that  ?    A  knocking  at  the  front  door  ? 

He  swayed  up  in  a  tingle.  It  took  him  so  long 
to  get  his  grip  on  living  realities  again  that  it 
almost  seemed  he  must  have  dozed  off.  A  knock 
— yes.  And  perhaps  not  the  first,  or  the  second, 
for  Ella  was  coming  down  the  stair.  He  dug 
his  nails  into  his  palms  in  chagrin,  held  his 
breath,  and  stood  ready  to  dart  out. 


CHAPTER    XXV 

The  front  door  was  open.  There  was  an  un- 
accountable pause,  and  then  a  voice — not  the 
voice  that  had  seemed  absolutely  inevitable,  but  a 
woman's,  chilling  and  yet  rich. 

**  Ay,  I  think  you  know  me — I  think  you  will 
not  need  to  ask  why  I  have  condescended  to 
call  here.*' 

No  answer  seemed  to  come  from  Hungerford's 
Ella.  Only  by  instinct  he  could  picture  her,  stand- 
ing very  still,  her  wide  eyes  reflecting  the  blank 
in  her  mind.  He  forgot  to  ask  himself  whether 
his  own  position  at  the  moment  was  not  as 
awkward  as  mean.  He  took  an  unconscious  step 
nearer,  craning  to  listen. 

The  door  had  closed.    The  caller  was  inside. 

**  I  have  nothing  to  say  to  you,"  came  the  same 
passionless  voice.  **  I  wish  to  see  my  James. 
Where  is  he?" 

**  You — you  cannot  I  "  Ella  seemed  to  come  to 
herself,  with  a  hushed,  trembling  little  cry,  and 
put  out  her  hands.  **  Oh,  you  would  not — you 
would  not  try  to  come  between  him  and  his 
wife.  You  have  found  him — but  not  to-night — 
he  is  weak  and  ill  !  " 

**  I  know  it  ;  thank  you,  I  have  just  left  his 
doctor,  and  know  it  full  well.  His  wife? — I  am 
not  so  sure  of  that — not  so  sure  that  he  has  sunk 
himself  to  that  degree.     Please  do  not  touch  me. 


LOW    SOCIETY  287 

I  repeat,  I  wish  to  hear  nothing  from  you.  Allow 
me — my  son's  house  I  " 

She  had  swept  by,  and  was  rustling  steadily  up 
the  staircase.  A  faint  perfume  of  violets  reached 
Baversham's  nostrils,  as  he  stood  rooted  just 
behind  the  door  ajar.  His  mouth  had  opened  for 
a  sound  that  dare  not  escape  ;  every  nerve  in  him 
shook  and  pulled,  yet  he  could  not  move.  The 
truth  of  the  bated  bit  of  tragedy  had  reached  his 
brain  with  such  swiftness  as  to  deaden  it.  This 
was  the  woman  who  had  watched  the  lit  window 
above  from  outside  ;  this  was  the  woman  to  whom 
Hungerford  owed  his  existence, — this  was  a  woman 
who  could  coldly  sacrifice  another  woman  on  the 
altar  of  caste  and  contempt. 

Somewhere  still  and  mute  in  the  passage  stood 
Hungerford 's  wife.  Just  the  door  shut  off  her 
agony.  He  had  no  right  there — it  galled  him 
to  have  to  know  even  so  much — he  must  not 
intrude,  nor  seek  to  know  more.  In  all  truth,  he 
did  not  want  to  realise  or  remember  ;  but  the  fas- 
cination of  the  incredible  was  strong. 

It  might  have  been  five  minutes,  or  fifteen, 
before  the  rustle  sounded  on  the  staircase  again. 
At  the  foot  the  woman  halted.  He  could  see 
countless  black  sequins  shimmering  upoft  her  skirt,- 
heavy  furs  muffling  her  stately  throat  and  breast, 
and  nodding  ears  of  black  wheat  in  her  bonnet. 
She  spoke,  with  a  bitter  tranquility. 

"  Just  so  I  My  son  has  nothing  to  say  to  me. 
He  has  snapped  all  social  and  family  ties  to  please 
a  typist  in  his  father's  City  office.  If  he  should 
never  recover  from  his  illness,  you  will  have  the 
satisfaction " 


2'88  LOW    SOCIETY 

"  Oh",  no — no'  I  '*  Ella  put  in,  in  the  same  hushed 
way.  **  He  loves  me,  and  wants  me  ;  and  there  is 
no  shame  in  it,  and  no  disgrace  in  God's  sight 
to  you,  his  mother.  He  was  only  true  to  him- 
self, as  you  would  wish  him  to  be,  when  you  told 
him  to  choose  between  love  and  position.  He 
has  never  regretted  it  ;  we  are  happy  ;  he  will 
work  for  me  ;  he  will  never  ask  your  pity  or  your 
help   in   any  way ** 

*'  Will  he  not?  "  She  gave  a  soft  little  laugh, 
more  stinging  than  all  the  anger  of  another  type 
of  woman  could  have  been.  **  Has  he  not  already 
pleaded  for  that  help?  " 

*'  No  !  '*  said  Ella,  breathlessly.  And  the 
woman  held  up  something  that  had  been  crushed 
in  her  gloved   fingers. 

**  Strange,*'  she  laughed  softly  again — tod 
proud,  maybe,  to  weep.  *'  This  letter  was  posted 
— from  a  false  address — more  than  three  weeks 
ago.  It  was  written  to  a  family  friend,  whose 
sense  of  honour  guided  it  into  my  hands.  In  it, 
he  begs  for  a  loan  of  twenty-five  pounds,  to  be 
repaid  in  instalments,  with  interest.  Twenty-five 
pounds — instalments — my  son  !  .  .  .  Hush,  not 
another  word,  please  1  Enough  that  your  husband 
— if  he  be  that — has  a  sword  above  his  head  for 
that  paltry  amount.  I  gather  that  it  is  about  to 
fall.  It  may  fall,  so  far  as  we  are  concerned, 
unless  he  chooses  to  revert  to  sanity.  I  think  he 
will  1  With  you,  I  have  nothing  to  do  :  the  wrong 
of  the  family  is  too  often  forgotten  in  morbid 
sentiment  for  the  woman  concerned.  He  has  sunk 
to — this  1  "  She  looked  around  her,  one  gloved 
hand  extended  eloquently.   The  hand  dropped.    *'  I 


LOW    SOCIETY  289 

think  he  will — if  only  because  he  must  !  Let  me 
pass,  please,"  she  whispered.  *'  I  have  told  my 
son  that  he  is  saved  or  lost — as  he  chooses  to- 
night." 

As  the  outer  door  closed,  with  a  dull  bang  of 
finality,  Baversham  stumbled  back  for  his  seat  at 
the  fireplace,  and  rustled  his  newspaper  in  shaking 
fingers.  He  even  tried  humming  to  himself — 
anything  to  blot  out  the  impression  that  he  had 
both  seen  and  heard.  He  was  quite  prepared,  if 
Ella  came  groping  in,  to  start  up  with  a  yawn. 

But  there  was  no  further  tangible  sound.  It 
had  happened  and  passed  like  a  scrap  of  melo- 
drama on  a  stage.  He  sat  stiffly  on  for  a  long 
time — till  he  could  bear  it  no  longer — till  he  had 
grown  cold.  He  looked  at  his  watch.  Just  upon 
six  o'clock  I 

He  stood  up.  His  original  grand  intentions, 
growing  more  and  more  puny  and  impracticable, 
slipped  quite  away  from  him.  He  looked  all 
round  him,  saw  a  big  book,  and  callously  tore  out 
the  blank  fly-leaf.  He  took  a  fountain-pen  from 
his  pocket  and  wrote  something  very  large  and 
legible  across  it.     Then  he  tiptoed  out. 

The  passage  was  clear.  Hastily,  yet  carefully, 
he  attached  his  paper  by  a  pin  prominently  to 
the  wall.  Just  a  moment  he  allowed  himself  to 
pause  with  a  hand  behind  his  ear.  Yes — yes — 
he  was  willing  to  make  an  open  bet  with  himself 
that  he  and  his  brave  Christmas  array  in  the  rear 
parlour  had  been  quite  forgotten.  He  could  dis- 
tinguish a  far-off  sound  that  his  crude  intuition 
interpreted  as  a  clinging  woman's  sobs  and  a 
weak  man's  soothing  murmur.     Yes,  Ella  knew  of 

L.s.  u 


290  LOW    SOCIETY 

Casswade's  ultimatum  now.  This  was  the  hour 
of  their  darkness — the  hour  sacred  to  husband 
and  wife.  He  felt  inexpressibly  chilled — the 
oozing  away  of  his  picturesque  programme  left  a 
soreness  ;  and  yet  he  was  glad  to  go  unseen  and 
unheard — it  left  just  a  remnant  of  the  romance. 

Very  cautiously  he  opened  the  door  and  clicked 
it  behind  him.  The  raw  outer  air,  after  that 
drug-like  atmosphere  of  the  rear  room,  rushed  at 
him  like  an  engulfing  wave  ;  but  he  was  not 
noticing  details  to-night.  He  set  off  down  the 
pavement  at  a  hasty  trot.  Exactly  where  it  would 
end,  he  did  not  know  ;  but,  as  it  happened,  cir- 
cumstances dovetailed  nicely.  For,  only  at  the 
lefthand  corner  by  the  main  road,  his  head  down 
and  his  arms  drawn  up  for  a  sustained  run,  he 
butted  full  into  something  that  yielded  like  a  mass 
of  india-rubber. 

**  Con -bloomin' -found  it,  you  clumsy  monkey, 
can't  you  see  a  man  comin' ?  "  bellowed  a  voice. 
And  Baversham  doubled  convulsively.  There  was 
only  one  voice  like  it  in  Barking  Town. 

**  Sorry,"  Baversham  panted.  He  spat  on  his 
hands,  squared  his  rather  sloping  shoulders,  and 
was  himself  again.  "  Sorry,"  he  repeated,  cheer- 
fully. "  Might  have  seemed  I  meant  it  ;  but  I 
didn't — as  I  didn't  see  you  comin'.  Merry  Chris'- 
mus,  Mr.  Casswade,  and  many  of  'em.  Here's 
your  hat." 

"Oh,  it's  you,  is  it?"  blurted  Mr.  Casswade, 
so  taken  aback  that  he  remained  a  moment  bare- 
headed. His  brain  was  not  quite  quick  enough 
to  recall  in  a  flash  just  how  he  stood  in  regard 
to  Baversham.  "  What  are  you  doin'  up  here,  eh  ?  " 


LOW    SOCIETY  291 

It  was  terribly  tempting  to  answer  :  "  Well,    I 

thought  about  buyin'  a  house "  ;  but   Baver- 

sham  had  a  different  shaft  up  his  sleeve  to-night. 
'*  Nothin'  much,"  he  said.  "  Only  lookin'  for 
you." 

"Me?"  Casswade  glared  at  him  with  open 
distrust,  but  not  a  muscle  of  the  cool,  freckly  face 
would  twitch.  "A  deep  'un,  ain't  you?"  Cass- 
wade muttered,  all  his  vague  suspicions  concen- 
trating before  that  provoking  stare. 

"  Ay  !  What  you  an'  me  know  *ud  make  a 
book,  wouldn't  it  ?  Yes,  we've  been  expectin* 
you  these  two  hours.  Coin'  to  have  a  drink?" 
he  queried,  innocently. 

There  was  no  public -house  near  ;  but  that  small 
fact  was  drowned  in  Mr.  Casswade 's  boiling  re- 
sentment at  the  bare  suggestion  itself.  Refusing 
to  reply,  save  for  a  throat -rumble,  he  was  moving 
on  down  Mandalay  Gardens. 

*'  Hold  hard  I  "  With  a  jerk  Baversham  swung 
him  round.  If  the  pavement  had  risen  and  hit 
him,  Mr.  Casswade  could  not  have  been  more 
astounded  ;  he  positively  could  not  speak,  much 
less  strike  out.  **  Bis'ness  first,"  Baversham  said, 
briefly.  "That's  your  motto,  ain't  it?  You've 
saved  me  goin'  to  your  house  ;  out  here  '11  do  jest 
as  well.     Got  a  penny  stamp  on  you?  " 

"  Look  here,"  gasped  Mr.  Casswade  strainingly, 
with  a  sudden  clutch  on  the  other's  coat  sleeve. 
"  I  know  your  game.  I've  known  it  for  a  long 
time.  Yes,  you  I  You're  the  man  I've  been  goin' 
to  charge  in  Court  with  defamation  o'  character 
and  false  report — and  I've  got  you." 

"  Funny,  ain't  it  ?  "  said  Baversham,  rather  pale, 

u  2 


292  LOW    SOCIETY 

but  not  moving.  '*  Who's  your  counsel?  You're 
the  man  I'm  issuin'  a  writ  against  for  the  very 
same  thing — and  for  obtainin'  private  letters  from 
clerks  in  a  lawyer's  office  and  showin'  'em  outside 
to  libel  the  man  who  had  'em  written  as  a  bait. 
I've  got  witnesses.     Have  you?  " 

For  a  moment  Mr.  Casswade  stood  rigid,  only 
his  throat  at  work.  Then  his  arm  dropped  away. 
"  This  'ere's  blackmail,"  he  said,  half  to  himself. 
**  That's  what  this  is — blackmail.  Where's  the 
p'lice?" 

"Boozin'.  It's  Chris'mus  Eve.  Sign  this," 
was  Baversham's  casual  response. 

He  had  taken  a  paper  from  his  breast-pocket, 
and  held  it  out  with  one  hand,  a  fountain-pen  in 
the  other.  And,  spite  of  himself,  Casswade's 
bulging  eyes  had  to  look  down. 

"December  24th,  19 — .  Received  from  Mr. 
J.  Hungerford  the  sum  of  £25  (twenty  -  five 
pounds)  in  full  settlement  of  a  loan  made  upon 
Note-of-hand  dated  September  loth,  19 — ,  and 
of  all  and  any  other  claims  in  respect  of  the  pur- 
chase of  premises  known  as  Number  Nine,  Man- 
dalay  Gardens,  in  the  County  of  Essex." 

"  That's  it,"  said  Baversham.  "  Don't  want 
readin'  twice.  The  rest  o'  the  bis'ness  is  between 
him  and  the  Loan  Society  now.  Jest  put  the 
stamp  and  your  name." 

**  Where's  the  money?"  asked  Casswade, 
hoarsely  derisive.     "  Who  sent  it?  " 

"  Here's  your  money."  He  held  up  a  small 
canvas  bag.  "Mr.  Hungerford  sent  me  with  it. 
It  meets  all  the  legal  requirements  you  can  think 
of.     And  I'm  gettin'  cold,  if  you  ain't." 


LOW    SOCIETY  293 

"  I'll  see  him."  Roused  beyond  the  point  of 
expressing  his  feelings,  Mr.  Casswade  made  a 
move — to  be  plucked  round  again  in  the  same 
unparalleled  manner.  This  time  Baversham  actu- 
ally tiptoed  to  stare  him  close  in  the  eyes. 

*'  No,  you  won't.  For  one  thing,  he's  ill  in 
bed  and  can't  see  anyone  ;  for  another,  he  told 
me  to  say  he  won't  have  even  the  smell  of  you 
on  his  premises  again.  Say  the  word  1  If  you 
don't  want  the  money  I'll  run  it  down  to  your 
lawyer's,  with  full  particulars — and  take  my  oppor- 
tunity to  get  some  information  about  his  clerks 
and  his  private  letters." 

A  pause.  If  looks  could  paralyse,  he  would 
never  have  done  another  day's  work  ;  but  Baver- 
sham could  stand  a  lot  of  inspection — especially 
just  now.  Gradually  it  was  borne  in  upon  Mr. 
Casswade  that  he  had  been  pushed  into  a  cul-de- 
sac^  and  that  to  prolong  the  little  scene  might 
attract  unwelcome  attention  to  the  property.  Be- 
sides, cash  was  still  cash,  however  tendered.  He 
wiped  his  reeking  forehead,  looked  around,  and 
saw  the  faint  light  in  the  hall  at  Number  One. 

'*  Jest  step  over  to  my  foreman's,"  he  muttered. 
*'  We'll  soon  see.  I  don't  do  bis'ness  in  the; 
bloomin'  open  street." 

Josh  himself  answered  the  thumping  bang. 
Soapsuds  dripping  from  his  thin,  knotty  arms,  he 
stared.  At  first  he  scented  belated  house -pur- 
chase— until  he  could  compare  the  two  faces  v:on- 
fronting  him. 

**  Just  been  bathin'  the  youngsters,"  he  said, 
apologetically.      **  Bein*  Christmas  Eve " 

Mr.  Casswade  gave  him  a  flying  push  inwards. 


294  LOW    SOCIETY 

**  Don't  you  start  about  Chris'mus  Eve  1  I  jest 
want  to  sign  a  paper  for  this — this  gentleman  here. 
Keep  your  kids  out  o*  sight,  that's  all  I  say.  Now 
you  can  go  on  with  your  bathin*." 

Josh,  with  only  a  little  cough,  had  led  the  way 
into  his  front  room  and  lit  the  gas.  He  retired. 
It  was  the  first  time,  maybe,  that  Casswade  had 
omitted  to  point  out  the  criminal  folly  of  having 
an  unlucky  number  —  beginning  with  nine 
children . 

"  Now,  then,"  said  Casswade,  theatrically.  In 
that  brief  respite  he  had  partially  recovered  him- 
self, and  decided  to  assume  the  offensive.  He 
particularly  hoped  that  the  repayment  included 
a  cheque,  which  he  could  refuse  to  look  at.  "I 
don't  want  any  more  Beckton  bluster  from  you. 
Count  it  out  there." 

He  lit  a  cigar  and  struck  an  attitude.  Baver- 
sham  responded  by  lighting  a  cigarette,  and  then 
poured  out  a  little  pile  of  sovereigns.  "  Mind 
countin'  *em  yourself?  "  he  said,  folding  his  arms. 

"  You  bloomin'  puppy,"  the  other  breathed. 
Nevertheless,  the  move  was  against  him.  With 
a  fat  forefinger  he  contemptuously  ticked  off  each 
coin  in  turn — twenty-five  in  all.  Reluctantly  he 
found  and  affixed  a  stamp — and  then  paused  in 
triumph.  "Here,  what  about  the  interest?"  he 
demanded. 

"  There's  no  interest,"  Baversham  replied, 
smoking  fastidiously. 

"  No  interest?  Oh,  ain't  there?  Then  there's 
no  receipt.     You  tell  him  that." 

**  There's  no  interest,"  Baversham  repeated.  **  I 
bought  a  turkey  with  that."     He  sauntered  round 


LOW    SOCIETY  295 

and  stood  near  the  door.  "  Wish  you  wouldn't 
muck  about  so,"  he  added,  as  Casswade's  wolfish 
stare  followed  him  round.  **  If  you  goggle  at  me 
all  night  you  won't  get  any  more.  For  heaven's 
sake,  shove  your  name  on  it.  He'll  have  all  his 
kids  bathed  and  on  the  line  by  this  time." 

"May    I    be— may    I    be "    Mr.    Casswade 

could  get  no  farther.  It  seemed  to  him  that  his 
throat  was  closing  up,  and  that  everything  looked 
crimson . 

"  I  wouldn't  wish  that,"  Baversham  had  advised, 
lightly.  "  Wait  till  you  get  into  the  p'lice-court 
dock  for  libel — against  me  and  against  Loney  the 
builder — and  one  or  two  other  little  things  such  as 
sellin'  houses  to  people  so  as  you  can  get  *em  back 
at  half  the  price  through  your  agent.  I  tell  you 
straight  " — he  took  out  his  watch — **  I'm  stuck 
for  time.  There's  a  whole  crowd  round  here 
wants  to  know  who  was  the  '  Mrs.  Casswade  '  you 
took  to  Number  Nine  that  night  I  dropped  in  so 
accidental.  If  I  don't  have  that  receipt  quick, 
I'm  goin'  out  to  tell  'em." 

"  The  interest "  gurgled  Casswade,  his  arm 

raised  for  a  shattering  blow  upon  the  table.  He 
was  cut  short  again.  Baversham  made  an  un- 
pleasantly professional  move  toward  him,  and  put 
both  hands  to  his  mouth  for  a  series  of  shouts . 

"  There's  no  interest.  I  bought  a  turkey  with 
it — understand  that  ?  A  great  turkey  with  a  red 
neck  and  long  legs.  I  wouldn't  let  him  pay  more 
if  you  fetched  all  the  p'lice  in  Barkin'.  Sign  it, 
or  come  outside  and  have  it  all  out  on  the  pave- 
ment. You  rotten  swindler,  jerry  -  builder  and 
private-letter  stealer,  sign  the  man's  receipt  I  " 


296  LOW    SOCIETY 

Speechless,  almost  suffocated,  Mr.  Casswade 
went  back  step  by  step,  and  stood  while  the 
stunning  sounds  died  away — at  the  far  end  of 
Barking,  it  verily  seemed.  The  interest  was  noth- 
ing, but  to  have  to  stand,  as  he  afterwards  said, 
"  like  a  bloomin'  Goliath  and  see  the  pebble  bein* 
slung  fair  at  his  bloomin'  forehead " 

What  Mr.  Casswade  possessed  in  bulk,  he 
lacked  in  fibre.  A  sort  of  sickness  swept  him  ; 
his  stomach  threatened  to  add  to  the  indignity 
of  the  position  and  spoil  Josh's  parlour.  Scarcely 
realising,  he  groped  forward,  seized  the  pen,  and 
scrawled  "  M.  Casswade  "  with  difficulty  across  the 
stamp.  Then  he  turned,  with  odd  noises  in  his 
throat . 

"  Drop  my  pen,"  said  Baversham.  And  it 
was  dropped  like  a  live  coal.  "  Thanks,  that'll 
do."  He  picked  up  the  paper,  and  was  at  the 
door.  "  Merry  Chris 'mus  to  you  and  Mrs.  Cass- 
wade 1  "  he  said  loudly  ;  and  was  gone. 

Two  or  three  minutes  later.  Josh  ventured  to 
peer  in.  He  discovered  strong  cause  for  com- 
plaint, but  he  withheld  it  :  Mr.  Casswade  looked 
so  yellow — and  the  Christmas  boxes  for  the  nine 
children  were  not  yet  forthcoming.  He  was 
thoughtful  enough  to  suggest  a  spoonful  of  brandy, 
and  to  wish  that  he  had  some  in  the  house, 
but  if  a  spoonful  of  vinegar  would  do  as 
well ■- 

**  Get  out  of  it,"  rattled  Mr.  Casswade.  "I'll 
talk  to  you  later.     I'm  bad." 

He  was.  His  hat  rolled  off  as  he  staggered  out 
at  the  gate,  and  he  did  not  notice  it.  It  was  not 
until  he  got  well  down  the  main  road,  and  caught  a 


LOW    SOCIETY  297 

glimpse  of  himself  in  a  shop -mirror,  that  he  dimly 
grasped  what  he  had  gone  through. 

"  Lost  my  hat,"  he  muttered,  to  the  man  stand- 
ing at  the  doorway.  "Got  anythin' ? — don't 
matter  what  it  is."  And  the  man  darted  in  and 
fetched  out  an  old  bowler,  three  sizes  too  small. 

**  Absolutely  just  right,"  he  said,  clapping  it  on 
with  some  force.  *'  Lucky  touch,  sir.  Two  bob, 
sir,  if  you  don't  mind.  Thank'ee  !  "  It  was  the 
best  and  quickest  deal  he  had  had  that  day  ;  and 
he  was  grateful. 


CHAPTER    XXVI 

Fortunately  for  Mr.  Casswade  no  wind 
sprang  up.  The  bowler  perched  with  a  capti- 
vating bias  on  one  side  of  his  head,  he  rolled  on 
down  the  road.  Where  he  was  going,  or  with 
what  object,  he  could  not  have  told  ;  there  was  a 
bubbling,  bursting  sensation  within  him  to  be 
worked  off  somehow  ere  he  could  think  sanely 
again.  As  he  got  nearer  to  the  congested  heart 
of  Barking  Old  Town,  now  simply  a  roar  of  mul- 
titudinous sounds,  the  crowd  grew  thicker  and 
thicker  ;  but  he  gripped  the  small  hat  and  forged 
on.  Just  possibly  a  hazy  connection  of  ideas  had 
suggested  that  if  he  worked  his  way  toward  Tamp- 
lin  Street,  he  might  come  face  to  face  again  with 
young  Baversham.  He  dreaded  any  such  en- 
counter ;  yet  he  thirsted  to  do  something  suitably 
sanguinary — to  clutch  at  something  alive  and  rend 
it  to  pieces. 

"  Hold  up,  guv 'nor,"  said  a  resentful  voice. 
"  Who  are  you  shovin'  off  the  road?  " 

*'  Deal  him  one  out,"  said  another  voice.  **  Bust 
him.     I  would." 

Mr.  Casswade  cleared  his  eyes — that  were 
smarting  as  after  a  plunge  into  brine — and 
found  himself  beating  against  the  outer  edge 
of  a  packed  mass  of  people.  A  stiff  prod  from 
some  elbow  had  sobered  him  a  trifle  ;  he  made  a 
grab  to  save  his  two -shilling  hat,  and  stood  still  to 


LOW    SOCIETY  299 

get  his  mental  balance  likewise.  For  a  moment 
it  was  all  a  vague  blur  and  thunder  ;  then  he 
gathered  that  he  was  at  the  "  Socialist  "  pitch  in 
one  corner  of  the  triangle,  and  that  the  voice  of 
the  speaker  was  becoming  more  and  more  familiar. 

It  was  not  that  of  the  little  marionette -man — 
not  to-night.  He  was  there,  seated  on  the  platform, 
looking  all  around  him  as  if  ready  to  spring  up 
if  necessary,  and  execute  a  series  of  thrilling 
movements  to  express  pent-up  despair  for  his 
fellow-men  ;  but  to-night's  chief  speaker  was  a 
man  with  a  calm  face  and  smiling  eyes — a  man 
who  had  no  need  to  shout  dramatically  even  on 
that  spot,  because  his  personal  magnetism  served 
the  same  purpose. 

"  Let  us  have  the  truth,  even  though  it  be 
bitter,"  he  said.  *'  Every  big  city  in  England 
to-night  is  a  cauldron  of  misery  and  discontent. 
They  keep  the  lid  hard  down — but  they  may  not 
be  able  to  do  it  for  ever.  When  Our  Master  said  : 
'  The  Poor  ye  have  always  with  you,'  He  did  not 
grant  one  man  the  right  to  gross  superfluity  while 
his  neighbour  starved.  When  its  pockets  are 
touched,  this  England,  that  spends  so  much  upon 
its  parade  of  religion  before  the  world,  demon- 
strates that  its  real  creed  is  still — '  Might  is 
Right.'  " 

Then  Mr.  Casswade  knew.  It  was  the  even- 
voiced,  imperturbable  man  who  could  sit  in  a 
public -house  without  drinking  beer — the  man  with 
peculiar  views  as  to  Romanism  at  home. 

'*  This,"  he  went  on,  *'  is  the  eve  of  the  Day 
when  Christ  was  born  to  teach  us  how  hard  it  is 
for  a  rich  man  to  enter  Heaven .  Apparently,  no  one 


300  LOW    SOCIETY 

in  High  Society — or  in  the  Church — has  any 
desire  whatever  to  enter  Heaven.  At  this  moment, 
how  fare  the  army  of  men  who  live  professedly  to 
set  you  and  me  an  example — who  preach  the 
Christ  who  '  had  not  where  to  lay  His  Head  '  ? 
Every  one  of  them  is  well-fed,  well -clothed,  well- 
housed,  and  decorating  his  costly  church  with 
emblems.  What  of  you,  whom  they  are  pledged 
before  God  to  save  and  succour?  Hundreds  of 
thousands  of  you  have  not  a  Christmas  dinner — 
not  a  shilling  in  sight — not  a  hope  in  life.  What 
an  eloquent  commentary  upon  the  sincerity  of  our 
Church  ! 

"  Your  wives — many  of  them — have  to  work. 
What  are  they  paid  for  their  labour,  while  neg- 
lecting their  homes?  I'll  give  you  an  instance." 
He  held  up  something.  "  This  tribute  to  human 
unselfishness  has  travelled  all  over  the  country. 
Its  duplicate  in  thousands  fills  the  shop -windows. 
It  is  a  seventeen -and -sixpenny  '  stock  '  lady's  cos- 
tume. It  was  made  for  one -and -a -penny,  the 
maker  finding  her  own  working  materials.  I  have 
seen  another  specimen  —  a  motor-coat  —  to  be 
bought  anywhere  for  thirty  shillings .  Down  in  the 
God -forsaken  East  End  one  woman  receives  two 
shillings  for  making  it — and  going  blind  in  the 
process . 

**  How  do  we  live  and  die — we  who  are  kept  at 
the  bottom  of  the  social  scale  ?  Here  are  just  a 
few  of  the  latest  official  figures  for  London — the 
wealthiest  city  in  the  whole  world,  with  property 
in  buildings  alone  valued  at  far  above  a  thousand 
millions  of  pounds.  What  do  they  show?  That 
one    person    in   every    thirty-three    is    a    destitute 


LOW    SOCIETY  301 

pauper.  That  twenty  persons  in  every  hundred 
die  in  a  workhouse  or  a  workhouse  infirmary. 
These  are  the  figures  for  London  as  a  whole. 
Ninety  per  cent,  of  that  ghastly  total  is  furnished 
by  you^  the  oppressed,  the  workless,  the " 

Mr.  Casswade  suddenly  realised  that  he  was 
being  asked  to  grapple  with  poverty  statistics — 
things  he  loathed — turned  unsteadily,  and  was 
going  back  the  way  he  had  come.  The  roar  of 
sound  and  glow  of  lights  died  behind  him.  He 
passed  near  his  own  house,  but  he  would  not 
pause — he  could  not.  He  felt  he  must  do  some- 
thing— trample  upon  and  worry  something — or 
the  arch  of  his  head  would  lift.  Even  the  thought 
of  refreshment  failed  to  appeal  to  him. 

He  came  panting  back  again  to  the  corner  of 
Mandalay  Gardens.  He  paused,  his  hands  strain- 
ing up.  Wherever  he  looked  to-night,  there  were 
bright  lights,  and  everywhere  an  ironical  blaze  in 
the  heavens.  He  was  as  one  shut  out.  At  this 
minute,  perhaps,  at  Number  Nine — down  in  Tamp- 
lin  Street  —  maybe  in  the  "  local  "  itself  —  they 
were  all  laughing  at  him  as  a  spent  force.  There 
was  not  even  the  dull  sound  of  a  hammer  at  work 
to-night  :  even  prosaic,  hard-working  Josh  was 
taking  things  easy. 

It  was  like  the  impending  end  of  his  career — 
yes.  It  maddened  him.  He  strode  on  impotently, 
and  glared  along  the  site  of  his  new  block.  .  .  . 
Gradually — insensibly — ^his  heavy  breathing  slack- 
ened off.  Head  thrust  forward,  he  moved  a 
stealthy  step  or  two  over  the  mortar -littered  grass. 
In  the  shadow  of  the  houses  he  resembled  a 
great  animal  about  to  charge.    .    .    .   Down  there 


302  LOW    SOCIETY 

— down  there  in  the  steel -coloured  light  from 
above,  moved  a  figure  that  was  of  the  world  and 
yet  not  of  it.  Now  it  stooped  as  to  pick  up  some- 
thing, now  it  leaned  back  to  look  up  at  the  half- 
finished  walls  ;  now  it  tugged  critically,  conscien- 
tiously, at  a  section  of  the  scaffolding. 

**  There  you  are  !  "  muttered  Casswade  tensely 
to  himself.  **  There  you  are,  are  you?  If  I  don't 
put  your  light  out,  you'll  put  mine  I  ** 

Feeling  along  by  the  fence,  he  got  nearer  and 
nearer.  It  was  not  so  much  the  man  himself  that 
he  had  grown  to  fear  :  it  was  the  fact  of  his 
silence,  his  persistency — his  madness,  that  of  late 
had  seemed  to  assume  a  sinister  method.  His 
small  brain  incapable  of  gauging  true  perspective, 
Casswade  was  that  night  a  Frankenstein  ;  and 
Loney  was  the  monster  he  had  helped  to  fashion. 

Now  he  was  almost  abreast  of  the  figure.  As, 
with  arms  crossed,  it  paced  back  toward  the  first 
finished  houses,  he  moved  with  it.  He  had  no 
intentions  whatever  ;  but  his  bottled-up  chagrin 
had  found  an  outlet.  He  tingled  with  Satanic 
impulses  that  fed  upon  this  other  man's  supreme 
detachment  and  calm  air  of  proprietorship. 

Presently — perhaps  for  the  twentieth  time  that 
evening — Loney  turned  placidly  in  at  a  doorless 
doorway  and  was  lost  in  the  darkness.  For  a 
moment  his  feet  could  be  heard  crunching  on  the 
boards — then  all  was  quiet.  Casswade  made  a 
swift  little  detour  on  tiptoe,  reached  the  same  door- 
way, and  listened.  Presently  he  struck  a  match, 
and  waved  it  inside.  Seeing  nothing,  he  advanced 
a  step  or  two  and  struck  another  match  to  peer 
into  the   small   front  room.      Nothing  I      Stealing 


LOW    SOCIETY  303 

on,  he  tried  the  rear  rooms  ;  and  each  time  his 
match -light  showed  vacancy.  He  came  back  to 
the  stair.  The  devilment  drew  him  to  try  it — 
unwholesome  dread  held  him  in  check. 

Up  he  went,  with  laboured  stealth,  like  an 
animal  unadapted  to  climbing.  It  was  the 
"  stock  "  staircase  of  his  own  design  and  erection, 
but  he  personally  was  not  used  to  such  cramped 
environment.  His  head  and  shoulders  came  above 
the  level  of  the  upper  floor.  The  roof  had  only 
just  been  begun  ;  through  ceiling  rafters  he  was 
looking  up  at  the  brilliant  open  sky.  It  was  pro- 
bable that,  with  his  bulk,  his  short  sight,  and  his 
instinctive  distrust  of  the  eggshell  brickwork  with 
the  mortar  conceivably  not  yet  set,  he  would  have 
allowed  himself  no  farther.  Years  of  supine  sloth 
and  self -gratification  had  left  him  "  soft  "  and 
nerveless — a  builder  only  in  theory.  But  his  fat 
hand,  feeling  out,  touched  something.  It  was  the 
foot  of  a  ladder,  just  loosely  roped  to  the  balus- 
trade.    And  then  he  looked  up  again,  and  knew. 

The  ladder  had  been  left  reared  against  the 
chimney  stack.  At  the  top,  a  little  darker  than 
the  outstanding  square  of  masonry  itself,  he  could 
distinguish  the  elusive  figure.  Loney  had  calmly 
mounted  the  rungs — perhaps  to  inspect  the  stack 
— and  now  stood  perched  sideways  upon  it,  his 
arms  folded  again,  as  unconscious  above  the 
gaping  chasms  as  though  the  solid  earth  were 
beneath  his  feet. 

Something  whistled  in  Casswade*s  throat,  where 
the  hoarse  challenging  shout  had  been  abruptly 
checked.  The  slow  -  rising  passion  suddenly 
swelled  to  the  point  where  it  became  brief  insanity. 


304  LOW    SOCIETY 

He  felt  for  the  rope -coils,  and  feverishly  unslung 
them.  Then,  his  eyes  turned  down,  he  shifted 
his  hands  up  to  about  the  fifth  rung,  gripped  it 
hard  in  the  middle,  set  his  feet  against  the  wall 
behind,  and  prepared  for  the  heave  of  his  body — 
the  sudden  forward  pull — that  should  jerk  Lon^y 
somewhere  into  space. 

It  came,  together  with  a  great  burst  of  his 
breath.  Simultaneously  came  the  sick  reaction  : 
horrible  fear  of  the  sound  of  a  fallen  body — and 
of  the  afterwards.    He  had  to  look  up. 

In  some  way,  not  to  be  explained,  Loney  had 
sensed  the  fumbling  below,  and  got  a  hold  ;  he 
was  clinging  on.  The  ladder,  exactly  upright,  was 
swayingly  balanced  for  a  fall  either  way,  and  top- 
heavy  with  its  living  burden.  And  for  a  span  of 
seconds,  such  was  the  effort  his  swollen  fingers 
put  out,  Casswade  held  it  in  that  position,  the 
sweat  streaming  from  every  pore  of  his  body.  To 
relax — to  let  the  ladder  go  either  way — meant 
murder  in  cold  blood  ;  and  he  knew  it. 

It  was  going — going.  Convulsively  he  heaved, 
and  just  saved  it.  It  swayed  back,  balanced 
again,  and  began  to  topple  the  other  way— 
forward.  One  more  superhuman  effort  he  made 
to  arrest  its  progress,  but  too  late.  All  his 
strength  oozed  out  in  a  rush.  With  a  muffled 
scream,  to  drown  the  noise  of  the  crash,  he  turned 
to  bolt  down  the  narrow  staircase, — missed  his 
footing,  and  lay  in  a  heap  at  the  bottom,  one  leg 
doubled  up  beneath  him.  He  was  just  conscious 
that  a  bone  in  that  leg  had  snapped  like  a  carrot. 

Perhaps  he  swooned  then  and  there  ;  that  he 
would  never  know.      His  next   realisation  was   of 


LOW    SOCIETY  305 

an  utter  stillness  that  seemed  to  be  of  the  grave 
itself — of  a  cold  numbness  in  every  limb — of  in- 
ertia so  profound  that  it  deadened  even  his  pain. 
But  he  would  not  attempt  to  move  or  shout — no, 
he  would  not  do  that,  if  he  lay  there  the  night 
long,  and  was  found  dead  and  stiff  on  Christmas 
morning.  Somewhere  near  him — perhaps  almost 
within  touching  distance  —  Loney  must  be 
stretched  ;  and  Loney  had  not  emitted  a  soimd. 
And  the  finding  of  Loney's  body  would  put  a  rope 
around  the  living  man's  neck. 

He  lay,  and  fancied  himself  slowly  passing 
away.  There  had  been  a  considerable  store  of 
heat  in  his  big  body,  but  it  was  all  but  exhausted 
now.  He  could  even  feel  a  glimmer  of  mental 
exaltation  in  the  thought  that  he  had  repented  — 
had  tried  to  save  Loney  I  He  pictured  all  the 
glow  and  noise  of  Barking  Town.  He  saw  himself 
being  carried  lifeless  on  a  shutter  down  the  main 
road,  and  in  at  the  door  of  his  house.  He  could 
almost  hear  Miss  Pugh's  wild  cry.  Only  in  this 
strange  lethargic  hour,  when  to  cheat  himself  was 
useless  and  impossible,  did  he  admit  that  he  had 
been  an  uncouth  taskmaster  to  Miss  Pugh.  She 
had  given  up  the  best  years  of  her  life  for  him, 
and  kept  his  house  spotless. 

The  minutes  passed.  They  seemed  as  hours. 
Little  bubbles  were  rising  in  his  throat.  He 
thought  he  heard  bells  ringing.  With  his  face 
still  lying  sideways  against  the  dirty  boards,  just 
as  he  had  fallen,  he  tried  to  recall  the  last  time  he 
had  been  inside  a  church.  This  was  difficult, 
and  he  failed.  But  he  was  curiously  softened  ;  he 
knew  a  line  or  two  of  a  hymn,  and  muttered  them 

L.S.  X 


3o6  LOW    SOCIETY 

feebly  through:  He  had  passed  into  the  mental 
condition  in  which,  had  he  been  able,  he  would 
have  dragged  himself  at  least  as  far  as 
Loney's  still  figure,  wherever  it  was — just  to 
touch   it. 

Maybe  he  was  passing  from  swoon  to  swoon. 
All  volition  had  been  paralysed  by  the  fact  that 
he  feared  to  live  on.  He  could  never  face  a  Court 
of  his  fellow-men.  It  would  have  to  be  suicide 
in  the  prison  cell. 

And  then,  suddenly,  a  light  shone  into  his  eyes. 
It  was  death  at  hand — he  firmly  believed  it  ;  the 
last  long  groan  sounded  in  his  throat.  .  .  . 
Over  him  played  the  light  unsteadily.  Something 
touched  him,  and  lifted  his  arm.  He  had  a  queer 
conviction  that  the  arm,  as  it  dropped  back,  was 
already  dead. 

'*  Casswade  I  Why,  what's  the  matter?  "  asked 
a  far-away  voice.     *'  Mr.  Casswade  1  " 

**  Josh  !  "  he  murmured  back,  by  sheer  instinct. 
"  Josh  !  "  It  was  Josh.  He  had  come  round 
with  a  lantern  for  his  tools,  left  in  one  of  the 
houses .  This  often  happened  —  and  it  had 
happened  to-night.  He  knelt  down  in  stupe- 
faction . 

"I'm  goin'.  Josh,"  Casswade  whispered,  like  a 
child.     **  Number's  up.     I'm  goin'." 

*'  You're  not,"  Josh  whispered  back,  with  a 
rattle.  He  knew,  at  least,  that  this  facial  greyness 
had  nothing  to  do  with  drink.  "  What's  been 
the  matter  ?  ' ' 

"  Look  round,"  Casswade  muttered.  He  would 
have  said  more,  even  to  his  own  eternal  undoing  ; 
but  the  effort  trailed  off.     He  gave  a  long,  quiver- 


LOW    SOCIETY  307 

ing  moan.  "  Take  me  home,"  he  could  just  say. 
**  Take  me  home." 

And  then  all  was  dark . 

When  the  shutter  of  darkness  slid  back  just  a 
little,  he  saw — not  the  Beyond,  but  the  walls  of  a 
vaguely  -  familiar  room.  Two  or  three  people 
moved  silently,  quickly  about,  as  if  making  pre- 
parations. And  one  of  them  looked  like  Miss 
Pugh. 

He  gave  yet  another  groan,  of  a  different  kind 
— and  willingly  sank  back  into  oblivion. 


X  2 


CHAPTER    XXVII 

Safe  outside  Number  One  with  his  signed  re- 
ceipt, Baversham  had  skipped  across  the  road  to 
an  obscure  corner,  executed  a  little  hornpipe 
before  a  well-dressed  lady  illustrating  a  tailor's 
advertisement  poster,  and  then  soberly  proceeded 
to  business.  Baversham  believed  in  strict  system, 
and  in  doing  nothing  by  halves. 

From  an  inner  pocket  he  fished  a  nice  clean 
envelope,  into  which  he  carefully  placed  the  re- 
ceipt. This  envelope  was  a  work  of  art  prepared 
beforehand,  and  he  allowed  himself  a  last  critical 
survey  of  it  at  arm's  length.  There  was  no 
address,  but  great  pains  had  been  taken  with  a 
luxuriant  scroll  of  holly-leaves  enclosing  a  sketch 
of  two  leviathan  hands  clasped.  Below  this  was  a 
suitable  verse,  which  had  taken  him  nearly  an 
hour  to  compose,  and  with  which  he  scarcely  liked 
to  part  : — 

"  Accept  of  this  Loan  with  Love  to-day, 
For  when  you  can  I  know  you'll  pay  ; 
And  should  you  let  it  worry  you, 
I  would  I  hadn't  lent  it  you." 

A  minute  later  he  had  slipped  it  into  the  letter- 
box at  Number  Nine,  given  a  loud  postman's 
knock,  and  stooped,  ready  to  run.  Through  the 
glass  panel,  after  a  pause,  he  saw  Hungerford's 
wife   coming   down   the   stair.      Her   eyes   looked 


LOW    SOCIETY  309 

swollen,  and  her  step  was  lifeless  ;  but  that  he  had 
expected.  First  of  all  she  caught  sight  of  the 
large  paper  he  had  left  pinned  to  the  wall,  and 
stood  to  wonder  what  it  could  mean  and  how  it 
had  come  there. 

**  If  Mr.  Casswade  calls  here,  simply  tell  him 
that  the  necessary  answer  has  gone  on  to  his  house. 
Don't  say  another  word,  but  shut  the  door,  and 
oblige  G.  Baversham." 

A  long  time  she  gazed  blankly,  and  then  seemed 
to  remember,  brought  her  hands  tightly  together, 
and  turned  to  look  into  the  rear  parlour.  Baver- 
sham  chuckled,  albeit  there  was  a  thickness  in  his 
throat.  Turning  again,  with  a  hand  to  her  fore- 
head, she  saw  the  letter  lying  there,  and  recalled 
the  knock. 

She  had  it  now.  She  went  back  slow  step  by 
step,  until  beneath  the  gaslight.  Baversham  would 
never  forget  her  expression,  nor  his  own  sup- 
pressed sensations,  as  she  read  his  composition. 
Did  she  fully  comprehend  ?  No  !  Tremblingly, 
unaware  of  the  peering  eyes,  she  opened  the  en- 
velope and  drew  out  its  contents.  Next  moment — 
next  moment  she  had  sunk  down  upon  the  lowest 
stair,  and  sob  after  sob  was  shaking  her.  But  only 
for  an  instant.  Then  she  had  swayed  up,  with  a 
broken  cry,  waving  the  precious  bit  of  paper. 

••  Jim  !  Boy— Boy  1  Oh,  thank  God  1— oh,  that 
dear,  kindhearted  fellow  has    ..." 

Baversham  *s  face  went  hot  ;  he  turned  and 
scuttled  off  like  a  startled  rabbit .     All  over  I 

Twenty  minutes  more,  and  his  stiff  little  figure 
emerged  into  Barking  High  Street.  He  felt 
absurdly   happy,   but   he   was    not    showing   it   to 


3IO  LOW    SOCIETY 

anyone.  There  was  still  a  ticklish,  if  prosaic,  bit 
of  seasonable  diplomacy  to  be  accomplished  with- 
out fuss.  He  drew  up  before  a  poulterer's  shop, 
and  scanned  the  serried  array  of  fowl  with  an  air 
of  determination  and  ripe  judgment.  Strictly 
speaking,  not  until  now  had  his  allusion  to  a  turkey 
been  anything  more  than  a  sarcastic  fiction. 

A  man  swooped  down  on  him,  with  the  mistaken 
eagerness  of  his  kind. 

'*  Yes,  sir — all  English  birds,  sir  1  I'll  warrant 
every  one.  You  never  tasted  anything  like  'em 
in  your  life.     Look  at  'em  !  " 

"  That's  what  I  want  to  do,"  he  replied,  tartly. 
**  I've  got  my  own  eyes.  I'll  let  you  know  if 
there's  one  that  suits  me." 

There  was,  but  it  came  to  sixteen  shillings.  On 
a  point  of  principle  George  offered  twelve. 
Finally,  with  reluctance,  he  raised  the  bid  to 
fifteen  ;  and  at  that  he  was  adamant.  "  Take  it, 
or  leave  it,"  he  said.  And,  in  the  end,  declaring 
himself  robbed  and  broken-hearted,  the  man  took 
it.  George  marched  off  with  a  deep  breath  of 
triumph,  and  a  great  mat  bag  from  which  the 
turkey's  unnatural  neck  dangled.  All  down  Bark- 
ing main  thoroughfare  he  was  followed  by  the 
admiring,  envious  eyes  of  the  crowd  ;  but  that  was 
as  nothing  as  to  what  was  to  come. 

It  seemed  a  very  long  time  since  he  had  turned 
off  into  Tamplin  Street.  A  little  wave  of  revulsion 
made  him  hesitate  seriously  even  now.  **  Said  I 
never  would  again,"  he  reflected  ;  "  and  here  I 
am  comin'  up  with  a  nineteen -pound  turkey." 

**  What,  no  mistletoe,  sir,  to  go  with  it  ?  "  asked 
a  woman.     And  that  turned  the  scale. 


LOW    SOCIETY  311 

**  Yes,  come  on — three  penn'orth,"  he  said,  with 
a  surge  of  recklessness.  *'  May  as  well  go  the 
whole  bloomin'  hog." 

"  Not  harf,  sir,"  said  the  woman,  heartily. 
**  There  you  are — and  a  sprig  in  for  the  baby." 

Pausing  long  enough  to  withdraw  the  skewers 
from  his  mat  bag,  so  that  the  contents  could  be 
shot  out  with  a  dramatic  swiftness,  Baversham 
made  his  way  up  Tamplin  Street.  Mr.  Shadd,  a 
belated  cup  of  tea  lifted  to  his  mouth  with  one 
hand,  and  serving  mixed  pickles  with  the  other, 
had  a  somewhat  sordid  appearance.  Contrasting 
the  domestic  atmosphere  here  with  that  of  Number 
Nine,  Mandalay  Gardens,  George  found  himself 
mentally  regretting  again  that  he  had  not  "  picked 
up  "  with  Mrs.  Hungerford — or  someone  like  her 
— instead  of  Shadd 's  girl.  Still,  he  reflected 
generously,  that  was  not  Selina's  fault. 

He  went  on,  and  knocked  at  the  side  door.  All 
depended  upon  who  answered  the  knock. 

It  was  Selina.  She  stared,  gave  a  very  genuine 
little  gasp,  and  then  flung  her  arms  all  around 
him.  "  Oh,  you  darling  I  "  she  said,  shakily. 
"  Oh,  youVe  come  to  surprise  us,  you  have.  Oh, 
it's   George — it's   George  !  " 

George  was  disgusted,  the  operation  taking 
place  on  the  doorstep  ;  but  for  once,  as  a  special 
event,  he  suppressed  his  feelings.  Holding  him 
tightly  by  the  arm,  in  case  he  might  escape, 
Selina  drew  him  into  the  room  behind  the  shop, 
hugged  him  again  till  she  was  breathless,  danced 
round  the  room  in  a  sort  of  delirium,  and  then 
burst  into  tears. 

"  Well,   I'm  blowed — I  never  did  !  "  said  Baver- 


312  LOW    SOCIETY 

sham,  adjusting  his  tie  and  collar  again.  **  Any- 
one 'ud  think  I  was  home  from  China  on  three 
minutes*  leave.  I  only  came  to  say  I  shouldn't 
be  able  to  meet  you  up  the  road  at  nine  o'clock." 

"Why  not?"  she  breathed,  in  sudden  fear. 
**  Whyever  not  ?  " 

A  moment  he  left  her  in  suspense .  Then,  ready 
to  dodge  any  more  hugging,  he  said,  carelessly  : 
**  Mind,  I'm  not  promisin'  anythin' — I  haven't 
changed  my  mind  a  bit  yet  ;  but,  if  you  like  to 
behave  yourself,  I  might  be  here  instead— that's 
all."  And  Selina  went  pirouetting  round  the  room 
again,  laughing  and  crying  together. 

"Good  gracious,  who  is  it?  Whatever's  the 
matter?"  It  was  Mrs.  Shadd's  querulous  voice. 
Descending  the  stairs,  she  nearly  fell  the  last 
three  ;  and  this  fact,  Baversham  considered,  was 
the  greatest  tribute  of  all  to  his  coup  and  his 
personality.  "  Shadd  !  "  she  called  out,  one  eye 
on  the  mat  bag  :  "  Shadd,  quick  1  " 

Mr.  Shadd  dropped  his  butter -pats  and  rushed 
in.  For  a  while  Baversham  and  he  stood  eye  to 
eye,  as  Baversham  had  intended  ;  and  Selina 
thought  George  had  never  looked  more  like  a 
born  actor  than  in  that  minute.  Then  Mr.  Shadd 
wiped  his  hand  on  his  trousers  and  held  it  out, 
rather  shamefacedly.  "  Glad  to  see  you,  my  boy," 
he  faltered.     "  If  I've  been  to  blame " 

**  You  have,"  said  George,  pointedly.  '*  There's 
no   *  if.'     There's  no  gettin'  away  from  it." 

"  But  perhaps,  as  Selina  thinks,  it's  all  been  a 
mistake  on  both  sides " 

**  I  dunno  so  much,"  said  George  ;  although  he 
had  no  intention  of  ever  supplying  a  definite  clue 


LOW    SOCIETY  313 

as  to  what  he  knew,  and  just  how  he  had  come  to 
know  it.  **  Still,  if  you're  willin'  to  admit  down- 
right that  you  thought  more  o'  my  money  than  of 
me,  as  I  happen  to  think  you  did " 

**  Not  really,"  protested  Mr.  Shadd,  with  huski- 
ness.  **  It  wasn't  that.  I  thought  you  had  been 
playing  a  trick  on  the  girl — and  so  on  us — so  to 
speak '* 

**  What  made  you  think  it?"  persisted  the 
other,  narrowly.  **  Come  1  What  reason  had  any 
one  to  think  it  ?  ** 

Mr.  Shadd's  mouth  opened  several  times,  but 
closed  each  time.  He  could  have  answered  in  one 
potent  word — **  Casswade."  But  he  was  loyal — 
maybe  still  in  hopes  of  a  dual  rapprochement. 

**  The  fact  is,"  said  George,  bluntly,  **  you  don't 
know  your  own  mind  two  days  together,  and  you 
think  a  sight  too  much  of  money.  But  all  the 
same,  as  I'm  here — well,  I'm  here  ;  and  that's  all 
I'll  say  at  present." 

He  took  the  hand  ;  and  Selina  had  quite  a  stage 
thrill.  Mr.  Shadd  sniffed,  Mrs.  Shadd  wiped  her 
eyes  appropriately  with  a  corner  of  the  curtain — 
still  keeping  one  on  the  bag  ;  all  three  watched  as 
George  took  off  his  overcoat  deliberately,  and 
stooped .  A  pause,  and  then  out  flopped  the  turkey 
on  to  the  table  with  a  thud. 

**  There,"  he  said.  *-  I  didn't  ought  to  ;  but  I 
knew  you  hadn't  got  one — and  wouldn't  buy  one 
if  you'd  got  the  money  to.     How's  it  look?  " 

They  walked  round  and  round  it,  admiring  with 
bated  breath,  the  shop  and  its  coughing  customers 
quite  forgotten. 

**  English  !  "  said  George.    And,  spurred  anew, 


314  LOW    SOCIETY 

they  turned  it  over  and  admired  it  from  that  point 
of  view.  All  agreed  that  it  was  a  unique  speci- 
men, Mrs.  Shadd  remarking  that  she  had  always 
thought  Mr.  Baversham  a  gentleman  at  heart, 
but  never  one  to  such  an  extent  as  this.  In  fact, 
Mr.  Shadd  added,  he  could  eat  it  just  as  it  was— 
meaning  the  bird.  He  should  never  forget  it,  he 
said — meaning  the  generosity. 

*'  Yes  ;  well,  that's  enough,"  said  George. 
"  There's  only  one  thing  I  didn't  think  of — and 
that's  the  sausages.  As  I  might  drop  in  to  dinner 
myself — jest  as  a  friend— I'll  do  the  thing  properly, 
ril  jest  have,  a  drain  o'  somethin'  with  you,  and 
then  Selina  can  go  with  me  to  get  'em,  if  she 
likes.  When  we  come  back,  let's  hope  the  shop 
'11  be  shut." 

Mr.  Shadd  wrung  his  hand  and  hurried  out — 
the  next  customer  receiving  quite  astounding 
weight  in  her  cheese.  Mrs.  Shadd  got  out  the 
decanter,  and  drank  everybody's  health.  Selina 
put  a  sprig  of  mistletoe  inside  her  dress,  next  to 
her  heart,  and  ran  upstairs  to  prepare  for  the  walk. 

'*  I  do  feel  happy,"  she  said,  nipping  George's 
arm,  as  they  stepped  down  Tamplin  Street.  *'  You 
wouldn't  believe." 

**  So  you  ought  to,"  George  replied.  **  Con- 
sider yourself  lucky  as  well  if  anythin'  ever  comes 
of  it.     Which  way  shall  we  go  ?  " 

**  Any  way — anywhere  !  I  don't  care  what 
happens  now  !  " 

"  You  be  careful,"  he  said.  **  All  we've  come 
out  for  is  the  sausages.  But  first  of  all — what's  the 
time?  Not  quite  eight.  Seems  like  a  blessed  day 
and  a  half  to  me.     Yes,  we'll  have  a  ha'porth  on 


LOW    SOCIETY  315 

the  tram  first — as  far  as  Hungerford's.  I  left  my 
'bacca  pouch  and  matches  there,  when  I  called.*' 

In  a  few  minutes  they  had  stepped  from  the  car 
and  were  pausing  in  the  roadway  abreast  of 
Number  Nine.  For  quite  a  time  they  stood,  simply 
gazing  up  at  the  lit  window  of  the  front  bedroom, 
while  George  muttered  something  cryptical  to 
himself.  Then — "  That'll  do,"  he  said.  "  Come 
on  back." 

*'  Aren't  we  going  to  call  ?  "  Selina  asked  in 
amazement.  **  Not  just  to  speak — and  get  the 
pouch?  " 

"  No,"  he  said.  **  I  only  fancied  a  last  look. 
Never  mind  about  the  pouch — I've  jest  found  it 
in  my  pocket." 

"  Well,"  Selina  had  to  titter,  as  they  turned, 
"if  I  live  with  you  a  hundred  years,  I  shall  never 
know  quite  what  to  make  of  you." 

"  That,"  George  replied,  oracularly,  "  is  be- 
cause you're  all  heart  and  no  mind — and  p'r'aps 
ought  to  be  thankful  for  it.  But  I  haven't  asked 
you  yet  to  live  with  me  for  a  minnit." 


CHAPTER    XXVIII 

The  glamour  of  Christmas  was  gone  beyond 
recall.  The  more  sober  joy  of  the  New  Year's 
dawning  had  come  to  fill  the  void. 

Barking  Town,  that  for  a  few  days  had  worn  the 
depressing  aspect  of  a  partly-dismantled  bazaar, 
showed  fresh  signs  of  activity  and  optimism.  The 
shops  put  on  a  brave  front  to  meet  the  exigencies 
of  another  important  eve  ;  and  people  who 
collided  with  each  other  in  the  thickening  brown 
fog  changed  their  mutual  resentment  into  a  season- 
able wish.  At  least,  so  declared  Miss  Pugh,  with 
a  picturesque  effort  at  cheerfulness,  as  she 
dropped  the  window  curtain  and  turned  to  survey 
her  patient.  She  insisted  upon  calling  him  her 
patient,  and  thought  so  little  of  the  abilities  of  the 
professional  nurse  engaged  that  she  sent  her  out 
to  take  the  air  on  every  possible  occasion.  She 
had,  indeed,  only  consented  to  abandon  the  role 
herself  when  it  was  pointed  out  that  enthusiasm  in 
itself,  however  valuable,  was  not  sufficient,  and 
that  Mr.  Casswade  might  pay  the  penalty. 

He  gave  a  dull  groan.  His  conversation  was 
mainly  confined  to  such  sounds  now.  In  fact,  it 
could  hardly  be  said  as  yet  that  he  had  renewed 
active  touch  with  the  world  at  all,  or  evinced  any 
desire  to  do  so.  The  first  few  days  of  comatose 
indifference  had  been  as  days  filched  from  his  life. 
Now,  with  his  immovable  broken  limb  beginning 
to  set  under  its  surgical  **  cradle,"  and  the  figures 


LOW    SOCIETY  317 

about  him  taking  more  human  shape,  he  lay  from 
hour  to  hour  with'  a  hollow-eyed  resignation  that 
puzzled  even  his  doctors,  while  Miss  Pugh  declared 
him  to  be  a  Stoic  and  a  Spartan  in  one.  The 
plain  truth  was  that  he  was  in  the  grip  of  a  vast, 
sick  suspense  and  incredulity  which  dominated 
all  else.  Feeling  like  a  prisoner  being  fattened 
up  by  cannibals,  he  could  not  understand  why  the 
hour  and  method  of  his  consumption  were  never 
even  hinted  at,  and  dared  not  make  enquiry. 

Miss  Pugh  sat  down  near  the  bedside,  with 
folded  hands,  and  watched  him.  He  had  certainly 
lost  a  surprising  amount  of  flesh,  and  secretly  she 
was  hoping  that  he  would  never  regain  it. 

"  But  the  idea  of  you  saying  you  wished  to  die, 
and  would  die,"  she  said,  feelingly,  once  again. 
And  to-night  he  broke  out  with  a  coherent 
response. 

"Did  I?" 

•*  Did  you?  Not  once,  but  a  dozen  times.  It 
upset  me,  I  can  tell  you — at  least,  I'm  not  going 
to  tell  you."     And  she  drew  out  her  handkerchief. 

There  was  a  pause.  Then — "Where's  she?'* 
he  asked,  weakly. 

**  Gone  out  for  a  run."  Miss  Pugh  got  up. 
**  Do  you  want  her? — Would  you  prefer  her?  If 
so " 

"No,"  he  muttered.  "Keep  her  out.  If  I — 
if  I've  been  say  in'  anythin',  without  knowin'  it, 
it's  your  duty  to  tell  me." 

She  sat  down,  her  head  drooped  against  one 
raised  finger. 

"  I  don't  know  that  it  is,"  she  reflected,  softly. 
"I'm  afraid  it  would  never  do." 


3i8  LOW    SOCIETY 

"  Why  not?  "  he  demanded.  He  was  certainly 
taking  a  turn  for  the  better. 

*'  Well,  because — because  in  delirium  the  lips 
generally  betray  what  the  mind  would  rather  con- 
ceal, don't  they?  " 

"  Dunno  what  you  mean,"  he  rattled,  after  a 
moment's  hard  thought.  "  I  wasn't  delirious  one 
minnit,  that  I  know  of." 

'*  Oh  I  then  that  makes  it  quite  impossible  for 
me  to  repeat  all  you've  said."  And  she  rose  as  in 
trepidation  to  stir  the  fire. 

Presently  his  voice  sounded  again,  thickly,  as 
if  forced  out.  "What's  been  happenin' ?  Tell 
me  that.     Out — outside,  I  mean." 

"  Nothing  at  all."  She  could  answer  that  with 
decision,  since  she  cared  not  a  rap  what  had  hap- 
pened beyond  this  room.  "  The  days  have  just 
come  and  gone  as  usual.  Rest  your  mind,  if  you 
can't  your  body." 

In  stupefaction  he  stared  at  her.  It  was  not  by 
any  means  fully  clear  to  him  yet  whether  he  was 
really  alive.  On  the  other  hand,  it  began  to 
dawn  upon  him  that  just  possibly  he  had  never 
gone  near  the  new  block  at  all  that  night,  but  had 
been  ill  and  dreamed  it .  The  bare  thought  made 
him  try  to  struggle  up. 

"  Lie  still,"  said  the  shocked  Miss  Pugh,  bend- 
ing over  him  instantly.  "  How  dare  you?  Quite 
naughty  of  you  !  "  She  tapped  his  arm — then 
his  cheek.  "  You  are  not  to  move  for  another 
week,  at  least,  and  I  am  responsible." 

"Who's  downstairs?"  he  ventured  hollowly 
again,  after  more  tense  thought. 

"  Nobody — only   the    charwoman.      There's   no 


LOW    SOCIETY  319 

waste  or  mismanagement  going  on — if  that's  what 
you're  brooding  upon.  I  think  you  can  trust  me 
that  far." 

His  amazement  was  such  that  he  could  hardly 
draw  breath.  Vaguely  he  had  been  picturing  a 
posse  of  policemen  down  there,  discreetly  and 
callously  awaiting  his  convalescence. 

"And  nobody  been?"  he  pursued,  sunkenly. 
"  Nobody  been  about  —  about  bis'ness  or  any- 
thin' ?  " 

'*  Let's  see,  now."  She  started  to  tick  off  her 
fingers,  his  heart  giving  a  dull  bound  each  time. 
Mercifully  the  firelight  left  his  face  in  shadow. 
"  Yes,  your  foreman.  Josh,  has  called  three  times. 
I  was  to  tell  you,  he  said,  that  he  had  given  four 
of  the  men  a  week's  notice  and  paid  them  off. 
He  has  stopped  all  work  on  the  new  block, 
and " 

"  My  Gawd  !  "  gasped  Mr.  Casswade,  as  with 
a  sudden  pain.  He  pushed  her  back,  as  she 
craned  over  him.  **  I  mean — go  on  1  Is  that  all 
he  said?" 

**  That's  all — except  that  his  wife  had  sent  you 
a  slice  of  her  pudding,  if  you  would  accept  it.  It's 
downstairs." 

**  I'll  have  it  now,"  breathed  Mr.  Casswade, 
almost  lightheaded  in  his  incredulity. 

**  I'm  sure  you  won't,"  she  said,  solemnly — it 
had  sounded  so  like  a  grim  jest  of  his.  "  But 
who  else  do  you  think  has  called — last  Tuesday 
evening?  " 

**  I  dunno,"  he  whispered,  the  cold  sweat  all 
ready  to  break  out  on  him. 

"  Why,    that    Mr.    Baversham    and    his    young 


320  LOW    SOCIETY 

woman.  Said  he  was  most  sorry  to  hear  of  your 
fall,  and  would  I  make  a  point  of  telling  you  so? 
And  he  looked  as  if  he  meant  it.  Oh,  I  was  almost 
forgetting,  too — that  bunch  of  white  flowers  came 
from  Mrs.  Hungerford.  I  thought  it  very  nice  of 
her — considering . ' ' 

What  Mr.  Casswade  thought,  was  not  likely  to 
be  known.  Three-cornered  lumps  appeared  to 
be  massing  in  his  bronchial  passages.  "  Go  on  !  " 
he  could  just  get  past  them. 

**  And,  on  Wednesday,  that  Mr.  Shadd's  shop- 
boy  rang  with  some  home-made  cake  and  two 
dozen  eggs  and  his  love.  At  least,  the  boy  said 
it  was  home-made  ;  and  the  eggs  were  in  '  new 
laid  *  boxes  ;  but  I  had  my  own  idea,  and  used 
them  for  milk -pudding.  And  the  curate  from  St. 
Mark's  just  knocked  to  enquire,  and  said  it  was 
God's  will  we  should  be  chastened  in  some  way, 
if  there  was  any  reason  for  it — and  sometimes 
when  there  wasn't.  And  that's  all.  You  know 
everything." 

The  red  ashes  sank  in  the  grate  ;*the  clang  of 
the  electric  car  bells  could  be  heard  at  intervals, 
and  the  sound  of  passing  voices  muffled  by  fog. 
Miss  Pugh  at  last  went  to  creep  from  her  chair. 
She  believed  that  her  patient  had  dropped  into 
sleep.     His  sudden  rattle  quite  startled  her. 

"  Sit  still  I  Come  here  !  .  .  .  Did  you  say 
Josh  had  been  here?  " 

"  Why,  I've  just  been  telling  you,"  she  said, 
with  a  tremor,  stooping.  There  seemed  something 
new  in  his  manner — almost  suggesting  confidence. 
"  Three  times  1  He  has  given  four  of  the 
men " 


LOW    SOCIETY  321 

"  No— no  I  Didn't  he  sit  and  talk  a  bit?  Did 
he  say  anythin'  about — about  who  was  lookin* 
after  the  houses?  " 

**  No,"  she  said,  racking  her  memory  for  him. 
'*  We  were  in  the  kitchen — he  wouldn't  come  up, 
or  enter  the  drawing-room.  All  he  said  was,  had 
you  heard  that  Peter  Loney " 

*'  Loney  I  "  He  almost  shrieked  it  ;  and  Miss 
Pugh  shrieked  in  turn. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Casswade,  what  is  it? — what  have  I 
done  ?  " 

'*  Nothin' — nothin'  !  "  He  had  got  a  grip  of 
her  wrists,  and  was  pulling  her  down,  his  breath 
whistling.  *'  Keep  quiet.  Had  a  pain — went  to 
move.  Hold  my  hands.  What  —  what  about 
Loney?" 

"  Only — only  that  he*s  gone  for  good.  He  had 
had  a  shock  of  some  sort,  they  thought.  He  was 
found  wandering  miles  away  late  on  Christmas 
Eve — Epping,  I  fancy  Josh  said — and  they  put  him 
into  the  infirmary.  He's  to  be  kept  there.  His 
mother  came  to  tell  Josh,  and  seemed  very  thankful 
after  the  long  strain.    That's  all." 

If  she  had  known  ! — if  she  could  have  seen  the 
nameless  load  slipping  slowly  off  Mr.  Casswade's 
mind,  as  he  lay  so  still  I  All  Miss  Pugh  knew 
was,  that  his  clutch  upon  her  hands  showed  what  a 
reserve  of  vitality  he  must  have  possessed. 

**  ril  light  the  gas,"  she  said,  faintly,  at 
length. 

"  No,  don't  want  it,"  he  breathed.  "  What— 
what  was  it  you  said,  then? — about  my  sayin' 
things  you  couldn't  repeat?  " 

*'  How  could  I  ?  "  Miss  Pugh  faltered,  now  really 
L.S.  Y 


322  LOW    SOCIETY 

frightened — and  yet  not  unpleasantly  so.  **  They 
all  heard  it — the  doctors,  and  the  woman  next 
door.  I  wouldn't — for  worlds — speak  of  it,  what- 
ever it  cost  me  at  the  time.  .  .  .  You  were 
delirious,  that  first  night  ;  you  must  have 
been.  You  said  terrible  things  ;  and — and  you 
shouted  out  *  Mrs.  Casswade  I  ' — and  you  pointed 
at   me:' 

**  I  did?  "  he  repeated,  in  awe,  after  the  pause. 
**  Are  you  tellin*  the  truth  ?    Did  I  points  " 

**  Well,  you — you  seemed  to  1  " 

She  got  her  hands  free,  and  slipped  down  to  her 
knees.  There  was  more  silence,  broken  only  by 
the  sinking  of  the  ashes  and  the  muffled  sounds 
from  without  ;  and  then  his  big  fingers,  now 
shrunken,  slid  clumsily  out  and  touched  her  head. 
One  brief  flash  of  pure  romance  lit  up  Miss  Pugh's 
grey  horizon  like  a  beautiful  lightning  -  streak, 
never  to  be  forgotten. 

*'  That's  done  it.  That'll  stop  all  the  talk,"  he 
muttered.  **  If  I  said  it,  I'll  stick  to  it.  Tell 
that  nurse  she  can  go,  soon  as  you  like." 


Away  in  the  house  at  Mandalay  Gardens,  about 
that  same  hour,  Hungerford  sat  propped  up  in  the 
rear  bijou  parlour.  He  was  supposed  to  be  read- 
ing the  newspaper,  but  his  eyes  turned  expectantly 
every  now  and  then  towards  the  door.  Every  now 
and  then  Ella,  who  could  be  heard  singing  softly 
to  herself  as  she  busied  about  the  kitchen,  glanced 
in  to  smile,  and  to  let  him  know  that  her  thoughts 
moved  level  with  his  own.  She  wore  the  same 
big,    enveloping    apron,    and    looked    to    be    the 


LOW    SOCIETY  323 

matron    of    at    least    a    four-storeyed    Home    of 
Rest. 

*'  Here  they  are,"  came  Hungerford*s  voice  pre- 
sently, with  an  attempt  at  perfect  composure.  His 
ears  had  detected  the  sounds  without  before  the 
knock  came. 

*'  Yes,  here  they  are,  Boy  1  "  called  back  Ella, 
with  no  such  attempt.     **  Don't  you  move  I  " 

She  ran.  The  street  door  was  open  ;  there  was 
as  much  wiping  of  shoes  and  animated  talk  as  if 
two  fur -coated  explorers  had  arrived  from  the 
North  Pole.  Hungerford  sat,  a  white  hand  over 
his  eyes,  and  waited.  Then  a  tripping  up  the 
stairs  died  away.  The  rear -parlour  door  opened, 
and  Baversham  stepped  in.  He  had  donned  a  new, 
striking  suit  of  clothes  for  the  occasion,  and  tried 
to  look  as  if  quite  unaware  of  it. 

**  Here's  your  chair,"  Hungerford  whispered. 
'*  Come  along  1  " 

Baversham  gave  the  thin  fingers  a  full-blooded 
grip,  hitched  up  his  trousers,  and  sat  down.  Being 
here  by  special  invitation,  it  was  the  correct  thing 
to  look  around  the  room  as  though  he  had  never 
seen  it  before. 

**  Shan't  ask  how  you  feel,"  he  said,  with  a 
cough.     **  You  must  be  sick  o'  that." 

"  No,  wait  and  see,"  the  other  replied,  his  dark 
eyes  beaming.  '*  Smoke  away  ;  fill  the  room  with 
it  to-night." 

"Your  Chris'mus,  ain't  it?"  Baversham  pro- 
duced a  cigar,  and  crackled  it  critically  against 
his  ear.  "  And  mine,"  he  was  moved  to  add, 
with  some  emphasis.  **  She's  all  right,  but  she's 
no  hand  at  cookin' — Selina's  mother.     If  I  hadn't 


324  LOW    SOCIETY 

been  there,  the  turkey  'ud  ha*  been  cinder  outside 
and  raw  inside.  And  then,  again,  there  was  such 
a  lot  to  talk  over." 

**  I  expect  so,"  Hungerford  said,  watching  him. 
"But  all  ended  well?" 

*'  Middlin' — middlin',"  he  admitted,  striking  his 
match.  *'  Once  I  got  a  bit  worked  up,  and  took 
the  ring  off  Selina's  finger — but  it  was  only  jest 
to  make  'em  see  I  meant  it.  They  won't  lay  any 
more  traps  to  find  out  whether  Tm  worth  five 
pounds  or  five  hundred,  at  all  events." 

Hungerford  looked  into  the  fire,  and  did  not 
answer.  And  this  was  just  the  moment  and  the 
attitude  for  which  Baversham  had  waited.  He 
looked  round  at  the  door,  listened,  drew  out  a 
crumpled  little  brown  book,  and  coughed.  He  was 
on  the  threshold  of  sharing  his  grand  secret  with 
another.  He  had  mentally  rehearsed  the  revelation 
all  that  past  week. 

"  Well,  now,"  he  said,  "  Selina  doesn't  know, 
and  won't  know  till  I  feel  it  safe  to  tell  her.  If 
ever  anyone  asks  me,  or  tries  to  find  out,  they're 
doomed.  I'd  bite  my  tongue  off  before  I'd  tell 
'em.  .  .  .  Well,  now,  you  mightn't  think  it, 
but  I've  been  a  savin'  chap  all  along.  And  in 
seven  years  I've  saved  jest  fifty  pounds." 

"  Fifty  1  "  Hungerford  repeated,  trying  to  keep 
the  shake  out  of  his  voice.     '*  Fifty  I  " 

"  But  wait  a  minnit,  and  don't  upset  yourself. 
What's  that  figure  look  like  to  you  ?  *'  He  pointed 
to  a  column  in  the  little  book. 

**  Two  hundred — two  hundred  pounds,'-  read  out 
Hungerford. 

**  Jest  so.     I  drew  out  thirty  a  fortnight  ago — 


LOW    SOCIETY  325 

that  makes  it  one -seventy.     And  now  look  at  this 
page.     What*s  that?  " 

**  *  Total  stock  held  by  depositor — five  hundred 
pounds.'  ** 

With  a  business-like  air  of  indifference,  Baver- 
sham  repocketed  the  book,  and  sat  back,  puffing 
at  his  cigar. 

"  My  good  old  aunt  left  me  six  hundred,  odd,*- 
he  announced,  briefly.  "  I  put  up  a  stone  to  her 
that  cost  me  fifteen.  With  the  interest,  and  the 
bit  I've  saved,  the  sum-total  left  is  what  you  see. 
And  I  can  look  the  whole  world  in  the  face  to- 
night." 

Hungerford  sat  very  still.  He  could  not  trust 
himself  to  speak. 

"  And  now  that's  all  done  with,"  Baversham 
went  on,  quickly.  *'  And  why  I  mentioned  it,  is 
this.  You,  as  a  City  man,  may  know  of  someone 
who  could  look  me  in  the  face.  There's  a  certain 
combination  wanted  in  a  successful  bis'ness — a 
man,  and  a  gentleman.  When  I  start  mine,  it's 
got  to  be  a  success,  or  I'll  know  the  reason  why. 
Mind  you,  it's  been  all  mapped  out  in  my  head  for 
years.  I  shall  want  a  partner,  for  the  clerical 
side — and  one  I  can  trust,  you  bet — while  I  run 
the  workin'  side.  Hush — here  they  are  I  .  .  . 
Come  on,  Mrs.  Hungerford,  this  is  your  place  !  " 

**  No,  no  I  "  she  protested,  tears  and  smiles 
dancing  together  in  her  eyes.  But  George  had  a 
certain  line  of  action  to-night,  and  he  was  not 
going  to  deviate  from  it. 

Solemnly  he  served  out  refreshments — **  none 
o'  your  *  fine,  fruity,  fam'ly  '  port,"  he  muttered, 
as  he  had  muttered  on  that  other  memorable  eve  ; 


3i26  LOW    SOCIETY 

and  they  drank  with  a  subdued  appreciation.  **  We 
won't  play  whist,"  he  said,  '*  as  Selina  never  knows 
what's  trumps  till  the  '  hand's  '  played.  We  won't 
sing,  in  case  we  might  break  down.  We 
won't  do  anythin'  that  they  generally  do  at 
parties.  We'll  jest  sit  and  talk  till  the  bells 
start  to  ring.  And  then  I've  got  a  little  toast  to 
propose." 

And  they  did.  Outside,  the  brown  fog  thick- 
ened ;  but  they  knew  nothing  of  it.  A  deep  thinker 
has  said  that  his  ideal  of  human  happiness  is  *'  four 
feet  upon  a  fender."  Baversham's  contention 
would  have  been  that,  as  to-night  the  fender  sup- 
ported eight,  the  happiness  must  logically  be 
doubled.  At  times,  incidentally,  Baversham  was 
observed  to  feel  furtively  in  his  new  waistcoat 
pocket. 

It  had  turned  half -past  eleven.  Baversham  de- 
clared that  he  could  hear  bells,  although  the  others 
were  doubtful  ;  and  cleared  his  throat  for  action. 
And  then,  for  the  first  time,  he  caught  sight  of  an 
odd  little  picture  which  Ella  had  slipped  on  to  the 
mantelshelf  unobserved.  It  was  merely  a  pictorial 
envelope  under  glass — a  scroll  of  leaves  enclos- 
ing the  representation  of  two  massive  hands 
clasped,  and,  underneath,  four  original  lines  of 
verse. 

**  We  framed  it,"  Hungerford  said,  *-  because  we 
wish  to  keep  it  in  mind  all  our  lives." 

Baversham  drew  a  breath  and  stood  up,  little 
dabs  of  colour  in  his  freckly  face. 

**  Then,"  he  said,  drawing  something  from  his 
waistcoat  pocket,  "  you'd  better  make  it  a  pair. 
For  I've  done  another  little  one  for  the  occasion  ; 


LOW    SOCIETY  327 

and  I  reckon   I've   improved  by   practice.      This 
is  it  : 

" '  Here's  a  health  to  our  dear  hostess,  the  angel  of  the  road, 
And  peace  to  all  our  enemies,  tho'  they  at  times  do  goad  ; 
But  most  I  ask,  this  New  Year's  Eve,  prosperity  may  flow 
On  the  brand-new  firm  of  Hungerford,  Baversham  and  Co ! "' 

"  Who's  *  Co.*?  "  Selina  trembled,  in  the  hush 
that  followed. 

**  *  Co.',**  he  said,  as  he  left  a  light  kiss  on  her 
cheek,  **  is  you,  if  you  behave  yourself." 


The  End. 


BRADBURY,  AGNEW,  &  CO.    LD.,   PRINTERS,  LONDON  AND  TONBRtDGE. 


UNIVERSITY  OF   CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW 


NOV  30  19'^ 


OCT  14  19,5 


o^n 


,^0V    361920 
APR  '7  1931 


*.\VH 


30m-6,'14 


J 


0 


IB  32859 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CAIvIFORNIA  IvIBRARY 


